


Daybreak

by Anogete



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes's Trigger Words, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Gun Violence, Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Violence, virgin!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 70,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anogete/pseuds/Anogete
Summary: Darcy eavesdrops on a therapy session between Bucky and Sam Wilson and wants to find a way to make Bucky's life a little better.  The problem is she doesn't know how to introduce herself without sounding like a creep.  Lucky for her, Bucky isn't as clueless as he might seem.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm back! I like to manage expectations, so here's what you're in store for if you start reading this fic. The draft is finished, and the first 11 chapters are beta'd. It'll be 14 chapters total and about 70,000 words. All of it will be told from Darcy's point of view. As I usually do, I'll be posting a chapter a day as I go through and make my final edits and checks for typos/errors. Rest assured, if you start this journey with me, you WILL see an ending in the next two weeks. Promise! Other things you can expect: lots of memories from Bucky's past, a fic pretty heavy on the dialogue, a more broken and reserved Bucky than in my last fic (Pulling Me Under), a fumbling Darcy who tries so hard to make things better and doesn't always get it right, a slow (and I mean SLOW!) burn as Bucky and Darcy get to know and trust one another, a beach vacation with Bucky swimming in his undies, and eventual sex featuring virgin!Bucky at the very end.
> 
> Full disclosure: I had a difficult time with this fic. There were many reasons for this: my own beach vacation fell right in the middle of my writing the fic, my inability to write during my lunch hour at work each day due to excessive workload, and transitioning quickly from a very different Bucky (Pulling Me Under) who was more self-assured and assertive in taking what he wants. However, the primary reason I struggled was because the industry I work in is usually extremely busy in the fourth quarter of the year. This year it started early, and I've been unable to catch my breath (or even eat lunch) most days. The long hours at the office (and sometimes even from home) and mental exhaustion put me in a state where I couldn't even force myself to think about writing when I got home late. I was just hungry and crabby. I actually nearly scrapped this entire fic as I was writing the 10th or 11th chapter. I hated it and didn't think I was capable of finishing it. My lovely beta [ChocolateGate (cocosmama)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocosmama/pseuds/ChocolateGate), listened to me bitch about myself and convinced me to send her what I'd written on the premise that she'd given me her honest opinion if it was shit. Since you're reading this, you probably know what she told me. So, I plugged along and asked [Bulmaveg_Otaku](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulmaveg_Otaku) to take a look and tell me if I was crazy. She kindly pointed out a few things that were within my current mental capacity to fix that would better the story. [fasole-dulce](https://fasole-dulce.tumblr.com) acted as a cheerleader to boost my confidence along with a handful of other lovely gals from Tumblr who helped find typos/errors and encouraged me to keep working at it. If you want to know who to thank for this tale, thank all of them. Without them, this fic would be abandoned in my never-gonna-finish-it folder.
> 
> Sooooo, after saying all that, I want to be upfront in telling everyone that I don't plan on working on another project immediately after this one is posted. If I did, then I fear the quality would suffer. I need to get through the next three months at work and catch up on some movies and television shows. Maybe even knit something using some Bucky-inspired red yarn that I bought a couple months ago. Once I've recharged my batteries, I'm sure you'll see me back here this winter/spring with some more stories to tell you.
> 
> As always, I welcome all feedback. Comments or little notes on here or Tumblr (same user name as here) make my day and feed my muse. If you notice an error or would like to provide constructive criticism (or if you over-the-moon love this), you can e-mail me at anogete527@yahoo.com. I don't bite, and I will respond, though maybe not always in the timeliest fashion.
> 
> Like I do, I have my own personal playlist for this fic. It is comprised of songs I listened to on repeat while writing these chapters. The lyrics that open each chapter are taken from those songs. I will post a complete listing of the tracks in a later author's note. The songs might enhance your enjoyment of the fic, but certainly aren't crucial to reading/enjoying.
> 
> Now, I'm going to shut up and let you get to the actual story. I hope you enjoy the ride. I would love to hear from you if you do.
> 
> Yours sincerely in exhaustion and self-criticism,
> 
> anogete

> _“In the hotel, I can't remember how the past felt. I rent a blank room to stop living in my past self.” - The Antlers (Hotel)_

“I don’t know,” he said in soft voice. “I mean… I… It’s not something I want to talk about.”

The other man cleared his throat and replied, “I think it’s important. Don’t you?”

“Important? Yeah, sure. But don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s what we’re here for. To talk about it,” the second man replied, his voice patient and kind.

Darcy eased herself onto the wooden chair at the small bistro table in the kitchen. The lounge had two entrances, and she almost always came through the kitchen one. The place was rarely used, so she’d been surprised to hear the voices of two men just around the corner and out-of-sight. She knew she should leave, but it wasn’t like they were in a private space.

“What _you’re_ here for. I don’t want to be here,” the first man said. His words could have been combative, but there was a tenderness to his tone that softened the blow.

“You know there’s no pill to make this all better. This is the only way to get the monkey off your back.”

The first man gave a heavy sigh, letting the silence stretch out between the two of them. Well, the two of them _and_ Darcy as she sat around the corner, hidden from their sight. “What about shock therapy? What about just… erasing me?”

The second man didn’t respond immediately. She heard the shuffle of clothing, like someone crossing and uncrossing their legs, and the crinkle of a sheet of paper. “That’s not the answer, Barnes, even if we could do that.”

“ _They_ could. They _did_.”

“At what expense?” the second man asked. “They could and did, but look where it got you. It got you here trying to undo it. We’re better than that.”

“I should just go back under.” His voice sounded defeated and tired.

The second man–the one she thought was Sam Wilson–had addressed someone named Barnes. Darcy had never heard Bucky Barnes say a word before now. She’d seen him around the building, usually shadowing Steve Rogers and avoiding eye contact. Darcy had exchanged maybe five words with Captain America, so she certainly hadn’t had the chance to even make eye contact with his friend Bucky. It also wasn’t like she saw him often, which might be why she’d never heard him speak, never heard that gentle timbre in his voice. She couldn’t imagine how that came out of a man like him who never smiled and looked like he could crush someone’s windpipe with the pinky finger of his super awesome cybernetic hand.

“That’s like killing yourself,” the second man, who she now had confidence was Sam, said in a stronger voice.

Silence. She could only hear her own breathing and the soft whir of the fridge’s fan when it kicked on.

“Maybe that’d be for the best.” There was that exhausted voice, barely loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise of the building.

She’d just wanted to grab the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups she’d hidden in the freezer that morning; she hadn’t meant to interrupt what sounded like a very personal therapy session. A therapy session with Bucky Barnes, no less. She’d admired him from afar on the few times she’d seen him, enjoying the brooding bad boy thing he had going on. Thinking of him that way almost made her feel guilty now. Obviously, the dude had a lot of shit going on in his head.

“You can get over this. It doesn’t have to be either cryo or death.” There was the sound of a pen hitting against a pad of paper. “Come on, Barnes. Talk to me.”

“I’ve _been_ talking to you. For the last two months I’ve been talking to you.”

“Do you want to be free of the triggers?” Sam’s voice was sharp, like he was running out of patience. Darcy wanted to get up and tell Sam to cut Bucky Barnes some slack. She didn’t know why; she didn’t even know the guy.

“Yes,” Bucky said, the word more like an exhalation than anything else.

“Then work with me. _Try_. Look, I know you think this is bullshit, but humor me. Tell me about the first word.”

There was silence and a deep, heavy sigh. “Okay.”

“What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear it?”

Another long silence, and then Bucky said, “Home, who I used to be. That I want things to be the way they were. I want to be the way I was before…”

“Before what?” Sam asked.

“Before the war. Before everything went wrong.”

“Before HYDRA?”

“Even before that.”

Sam paused before he replied, saying, “Does it bring to mind a certain memory? Something tangible?”

“A double date I made Steve go on with me. We bought a couple dames malts at this soda shop a few blocks from my parents’ place. All the girls back then were crazy for Jimmy Dorsey or Glenn Miller. That’s all I could find on the jukebox.”

“Is that what you listened to?”

Bucky laughed under his breath, and it was such a strange sound coming from a man like him. “When I was around dames. Me, though, I wanted to hear swing or bebop. Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Coleman Hawkins. I thought all that Glenn Miller shit was too smooth, too clean. Too safe.”

Sam sounded like he was smiling when he replied with, “Did you have a favorite song?”

“Not really. I liked it all. Didn’t always have the money to buy the records, so I’d save my nickels for the jukeboxes. Hell, ain’t heard some of those songs in forever.”

“Can we go back to your memory, the one from the soda shop?” Sam asked.

Bucky was silent, like he was either reluctant to share or trapped in the past. Darcy wished she could see him. Finally, he said, “We tried to share with them–share the milkshakes with the girls I’d invited out.” He chuckled softly under his breath. “Steve’s girl… she wasn’t havin’ it.”

Sam joined him, chuckling as well. “Don’t think he has that problem much anymore. I feel like I’m invisible when I stand beside him.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Bucky agreed. “But back then, though… he had his share of noses turned up at him. Always irritated me, but… couldn’t force those girls into seeing him for who he really was–is–right? They had their own ideas.” He paused for a moment and then added, “After Steve rescued us that first time… I met that dame he was gooey-eyed over–Peggy. From what I heard, it sounded like she was sweet on him before the serum. Steve don’t like to talk about it any more, but… I was glad to hear it.”

The two men sat in silence for a moment before Darcy heard the rustle of a piece of paper. “So,” Sam said, “longing–” He stopped, like he couldn’t finish the sentence.

After a moment, Bucky replied, “I don’t like when you say it–the word. I’d… rather you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “That word, you associate it with your life before the war. What did you say? A simpler time?”

“I guess. The others–the words–I think I know where they came from. I can… The memories are specific, bad. This one… not so much. Just that feeling. That…”

“Yearning,” Sam offered.

“Yeah, yearning.”

“That’s good, Barnes. It’s a step in the right direction. I think it would help you to talk about those other memories, the other words.”

“Why?”

“They’ve got a hold on you. Talking about them, getting things out in the open, that can be cathartic.”

“I don’t know, Wilson,” Bucky said.

She shouldn’t have sat down. She should have turned around and left when she’d heard them talking. This was a violation of privacy, and Darcy knew it. And yet, here she was, sitting at the small table by the fridge and trying to keep her breathing quiet.

She’d spoken to Sam on two different occasions. The first time was at one of Stark’s parties when she’d had one drink too many and tried to grab his ass. When he’d realized her game, he’d offered to bend over so she wouldn’t miss the next time.

She’d appreciated his sense of humor, which had led to the second time she’d spoken with him at a happy hour get together with Jane and a few Avengers. Clint and Sam had challenged her and Jane to a game of pool. Needless to say, she and Jane lost. So much for chivalry and letting the lady win. Those two guys had wiped the floor with them and enjoyed the hell out of it. She liked Sam almost as much as she liked Clint, even if she didn’t see either of them often enough.

“Look, Barnes, if you don’t confront it, then it’s always going to have a hold on you,” Sam said.

She heard someone sigh. Probably Bucky. Darcy pressed her palms against the tabletop and pushed herself up to her feet. She shouldn’t be listening to this. It was wrong. The poor guy deserved some privacy.

“Fine,” she heard him say right as she stood up. “I just don’t want you to say them out loud.”

Sam’s voice was even and kind when he said, “I understand, but I think you need to say them. It’s important you accept their hold on you.”

“I have accepted it.”

“You haven’t, Barnes. You won’t even say them.”

“Longing,” Bucky said, his voice harsher than it had been previously. “Are you happy now?”

Sam said, “I don’t know if happy is the right word. It’s good to see you making an effort. Can we talk a little more about that word and what it means?”

“I told you what it means.”

“You said when you heard it that you thought of the past before the war.”

Bucky sighed, and she heard someone shift in their seat. Probably him, she thought. She took a careful step toward the door, trying to leave before he started talking again because she knew it was bad to eavesdrop.

“Like I said, I think of Steve and I taking a couple dames out. I’d give him a little cash. He’d pay because it made the girls like him more. Usually only had enough for two of those malts or we'd lie and say we could only get two. Those malts were… they were good. _Great_. I’d ask for extra straws, and we’d get the girls to let us share. Or try to.” Bucky laughed and it make Darcy stop with her hand on the doorknob. “We were young and sharin’ a drink with a girl… well, that was almost as good as kissin’ one, we thought. I mean, both of you suckin’ on straws in the same glass, faces inches apart. Steve’d get all red. Girls loved it. They wouldn’t lay one on him, but they loved it. I could tell.”

Sam chuckled. “Well, like I said, he doesn’t seem to have a problem with that anymore.”

Bucky laughed softly again. “Yeah, he’s good now. There was just something about it back then. Every little look and brush of a dame’s hand. It… made you want her that much more. Made you…” He trailed off and snorted. “Made you want what you couldn’t have.”

“The way Steve tells it, you could get any girl you wanted back then.”

“Nah, I’m not talkin’ about that. I’m talkin’ about....” He couldn’t seem to verbalize it.

Darcy knew what he meant. Made you hunger for the possibility of what the future could be. It was romantic, that little spark of longing for something you didn’t think you could have. Or, perhaps in his case, a longing for something you didn’t think you could have _again_.

“It’s more like thinkin’ about what you want, whether you’ll get it or not. Thinkin’ about what you can’t have, what you won’t ever have,” Bucky said softly before exhaling a harsh breath. “That don’t make any sense, right?”

“No,” Sam disagreed, “it _does_ make sense. But feelings don’t need to make sense, you know.”

Someone cleared his throat, and Darcy thought it was probably Bucky because right afterward he said, “We done for now?”

“If you’re done.”

“Yeah, I’m done.”

“Tomorrow. One o’clock? We can talk about the second word.”

Darcy didn’t know what words they were talking about. She didn’t know what the importance of longing was and why they were talking about Bucky’s memories, and yet here she was, trying to listen in on a very private conversation.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. “Tomorrow.”

She held her breath as they stood. For two well-built men, they were very quiet as they moved across the lounge. The door clicked shut behind them, and she sat back down at the table. She should apologize to him, but she couldn’t exactly go up and introduce herself and tell him what she’d overheard. He’d probably want to strangle her with that cybernetic hand. Yeah, she’d just keep this to herself and pretend like it never happened.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

“So what’s his story, anyway?” Darcy asked Tony, trying her best to sound casual. They were standing at a worktable in Tony’s personal robotics laboratory and looking out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that allow them a view of the greater lab. Bucky Barnes was sitting on a high stool while someone hooked up what looked like electrodes to his cybernetic arm.

Tony glanced up and then flicked his eyes back down to what he was working on. “Who? Cap’s BFF?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, holding her breath. Was she obvious? Did Tony know she’d thought about nothing but Bucky since yesterday afternoon?

“Well, he’s fucked up in the head, for one. Killed my parents.”

“I know that, Tony,” she said, pressing her hip against the edge of the table. “You ever gonna to let it go?”

“Why would I? Grudges fuel me.” He lifted his arms up and looked around the table he was working at. “Where is the thingy?”

“What thingy?”

“The vernier calipers.”

She had no idea what calipers were, but whatever Tony was looking for was usually right in front of his face. “Those?” she asked, pointing at what looked like a ruler with two pincers on one end.

“Yep,” Tony agreed, picking them up. She grabbed his almost-empty coffee mug, preparing to get him a refill, when Tony spoke up and said, “If I hadn’t let go of it, then he wouldn’t be here.”

“I heard you and Cap and him had a knock-down, drag-out fight in Siberia.”

“Yeah, both of them against me, so we are gonna say I won since I’m still alive.”

“Of course,” Darcy agreed. “Congratulations on winning by surviving the evil villain Captain America. Do you actually think he would have killed you. Like, really?”

“Don’t let pretty boy Cap fool you. He’s ruthless. Ruined my damn suit.”

“Poor baby,” Darcy said dryly. “What about Barnes?”

Tony shrugged. “What about him? We fought; I ripped his arm off; they put him on ice in Wakanda.”

These were things Darcy already knew. She had thought pumping Tony for information while he was distracted would yield better results, that he’d slip up and babble away like he had a tendency to do. “How’d he get his arm back?”

“T’Challa had one made. He’d blamed Barnes for his dad’s death during the explosion at the signing of the Accords, so he was making amends, I guess.”

“He didn’t kill T’Challa’s dad?”

Tony used an electric screwdriver to secure something. “Nope. Just my dad.”

“I thought he was, like, not in his right mind when that happened.”

“Like I said, HYDRA diddled his brain, fucked it all up. He was legit crazy-eyed assassin chic for a few decades. Cap and birdman say he didn’t know what he was doing.”

She swirled the dregs of the coffee around in his cup. “You believe them?”

“If I didn’t, then he wouldn’t be here,” Tony said, nodding toward the glass at Barnes. Bucky was staring at the wall, his shoulders slumped and looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. The man running tests on the prosthetic arm looked like he didn’t really want to be there either.

Darcy took the mug over to the fancy stainless steel espresso and coffee machine. It refilled his cup in just a few seconds. “So, how did they brainwash him into doing their bidding for all those years?” she asked, sliding the mug across the table when she walked back over.

“Some slick Nazi mind games, probably.”

“Mind games?”

Tony sipped the fresh coffee and pulled up a schematic in front of him. “Yeah, we all experienced that first hand when they brought him in the first time. Some asshole impersonated a shrink and got to him.”

“Got to him?”

“Yeah, the trigger words. He read them off and Manchurian Candidate over there went into a trance. Tried to shoot me.”

“Obviously he didn’t,” she said, looking at the way Bucky’s shoulders were slumped and his hair fell down to obscure the side of his face.

“Oh, no, he did. I blocked it with a prototype glove I had on me.”

“So, trigger words?” she asked.

Tony swiped the schematic away and focused back on the equipment in front of him. “Yeah, don’t ask me what they are. Don’t care to know, and apparently he’s not too keen on people knowing them.”

“Do you think they would still work?”

Tony shrugged. “Maybe. Why? You looking for a little Bucky Bear slave to do your bidding?”

Darcy almost physically recoiled at the thought. “No. _No_. Just wondering.”

“When we buried the hatchet a few months ago, he told me that he went on ice in Wakanda so he was out of commission until they could get that shit out of his head.”

“So, they found a way?”

“Don’t think so. Keeping him as a freeze pop was bringing HYDRA down on T’Challa and his people were pressing him to cut ties. Cap went and picked up his buddy to join our dysfunctional little fam.”

Darcy quickly averted her gaze when Bucky looked up. She hoped he hadn’t caught her watching from the inner lab. “Do you worry about him?”

Tony fired up a welding machine, forcing Darcy to step back. “Let’s just say I’m not going out to dinner with him anytime soon.”

She watched him do a quick weld of two pieces of metal with just a pair of tinted safety goggles on. “Uh, shouldn’t you have a full mask on?” she asked.

“It was just a quickie. Don’t start being a stickler for the rules or I’ll fire you.”

“I don’t work for you,” she shot back.

Tony furrowed his brows. “Oh. Shit. You’re right. I’d say that I’d fire your boss, but Thor would bring forth the lightning on me.” He looked up at her for the first time since their conversation started. “Why do you always get me coffee if you don’t work for me?”

Darcy smiled. “Because I’m nice.”

“Huh,” Tony replied. “Well, nice, let me give you a piece of advice. Steer clear of Barnes. His brain has been in a blender.”

She looked up and found Bucky watching them. When their gazes caught, he shifted his quickly to the floor. So, he was trying to get those trigger words out of his head so he wouldn’t be dangerous to the team. That must be what he was meeting with Sam about. Darcy’s heart hurt for him. It must really suck to not have control of your own mind.

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Darcy resigned herself to being a bad person, to being a eavesdropper and a nosey busybody who couldn’t mind her own business. Shortly after her conversation with Tony, she found herself slipping into the kitchen of the lounge and pouring a cup of stale coffee into a Stark Industries mug. She told herself that she’d leave after she finished the two peanut butter cups she’d pulled out of the freezer. She didn’t leave, though.

Her watch ticked over to one o’clock. Shortly afterward, the door opened. Sam and Bucky entered the lounge, or at least she assumed it was them. She couldn’t see from her spot hidden away in the kitchen. It would serve her right if one of them came in to get a cup of coffee. It would serve her right to be caught red-handed and booted out of the room. A part of her hoped that would happen. A bigger part of her wanted to hear his story about the second word.

Her heart shot up into her throat when she heard someone pause near the doorway to the kitchen. The fingers of a hand–one made of vibranium–curled around the edge of the doorway. It was as if he’d stopped there, undecided as to whether he wanted to go into the kitchen or not. What if he did? What if he found her there? Darcy’s mind raced with possible excuses for her presence, all of them decidedly lame. Her momentary panic was all for nothing when she saw his hand slip off the doorframe. She exhaled a breath when she heard him walk further into the lounge.

The two men didn't talk to each other for a full minute. Finally, Sam said, “So, do you want to start?”

“I don't know where.”

Darcy's heart hurt for him and the way he sounded so defeated. She’d pegged him as the distant, uncaring, macho type in the few times she'd seen him around. It was shocking to hear him talk.

“Start with the word. The second one.”

Bucky sighed heavily. “It's… rusted.”

“And what does it bring to mind? What memory? Just… start from the beginning,” Sam said in an even tone meant to calm.

Darcy wrapped her fingers around the mug and leaned forward resting her elbows on the table.

“I was eight, maybe nine, years old. My sister had been askin’ my parents for a bike. She tried to ride mine, but it was too big for her to reach the pedals. Plus, I didn't really like her riding it. It was mine,” Bucky said in that soft voice of his. “We didn't have the money for one, especially with my dad's hours being cut back. We couldn't even afford milk for our oatmeal. My mom was making it with water.” He huffed out a small laugh. “Thick as mud and didn't taste much better.”

Darcy smiled and sat the mug carefully on the tabletop, conscious of being as quiet as possible.

“Anyway,” Bucky continued. “She wanted a bike, and I was on my way home from school one day when I saw an old one leaned against the front of a row house a few blocks from our apartment. The man who lived there had a for sale sign on it. The thing looked like hell–paint chipped off, the seat torn, tires almost flat. And the chain, the chain was missing. Or, not missing. Removed. He'd hung it over the handlebar because it was rusted and stiff.”

“How much was it?” Sam asked.

“Too much. But I'd been savin’ the money I'd made carrying groceries for the old ladies in the neighborhood. I'd planned on buying a new baseball glove when I had enough, but… she really wanted a bike. So, I talked him down and bought it.”

Darcy took another sip of her coffee and tried to wipe the goofy smile off her face at exactly how unexpectedly sweet Bucky Barnes had been as a child.

“I hid it in the alley next to our building. Snuck my dad's tools out to work on it. Took me ac couple hours that evening to get the chain oiled up and back on the bike. It was in bad shape, all locked up with rust. I swiped some packing tape from a friend and patched up the seat before I went and asked her to come out to the alley.”

“What happened?” Sam asked, bringing voice to Darcy's thoughts.

Bucky was silent for a beat before he said, “She love it. Jumped right on and pedaled to the end of the alley before the frame snapped and threw her over the handlebars. My mom heard her from the kitchen window and came out to see what happened.”

“The frame?” Sam prompted.

“Yeah. It was rusted clean through. I was too much of an idiot to even check it. Was so worried about fixin’ the chain and the seat that I didn't even bother to look at the frame. Made me feel…”

“Taken advantage of?” Sam offered when Bucky didn't finish his thought.

“Stupid. Foolish,” Bucky replied.

“You were eight.”

“ Yeah. Old enough to know better.”

Darcy wanted to walk in there and tell him that Sam was right. He'd been a child, and he'd been taken advantage of by a man who probably knew exactly what he was doing. She couldn't interrupt the little private counseling session without them realizing she was eavesdropping, though.

“You were eight,” Sam repeated, his voice a little incredulous.

“I was workin’ my first real job when I was ten. I was old enough to know better.” Bucky’s reply was firm.

“Your sister was okay?”

Bucky said, “Yeah, fine. Scraped up and a little bloody, but no broken bones.”

“So, why this memory?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Sam didn’t speak for a long moment, and Darcy strained to hear what he would say. She wanted to know that answer, too. Why that memory? Why did he think of some stupid bike he bought his sister back in the twenties?

“You said the trigger words–other than the first–all were associated with bad memories?” Sam asked.

Bucky took a moment to think before he said, “Yeah.”

“Do you remember them talking to you about these memories?”

Bucky sighed. “Not really. I… don’t remember much about that time. It’s jumbled.” After a moment of silence, he added, “There were interrogations, initially. Drugs and interrogations.”

“Do you remember what you told them?”

“No. Not... Not really. It’s possible I… I might have told them about it. I mean, I guess I did.”

Darcy heard someone–probably Sam–shift and tap the end of a pencil against a pad of paper. “It would make sense that they would dig into your past and find moments like that.”

“Like what?”

“Moments that would make you feel bad, broke you down. Moments that would make you susceptible to them or to their programming. That’s how you brainwash someone. You isolate them, dig into their memories, break down their identity, convince them they are bad, convince them to accept they are bad.”

“So you’re saying I was brainwashed.” Bucky’s voice was clipped, unhappy.

“No,” Sam replied. “What was done to you was worse than that. They erased you, even if it was temporary. The techniques they used were probably similar, though. They pulled out those moments that made you feel like a bad person or a worthless person, they pulled them out and used them to open you up to what they wanted you to do. Those triggers, it’s possible they aren’t just dropping you into a state of hypnosis, which is certainly what is happening on the surface. Maybe they’re also breaking you down every time the words are read.”

The two men sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity. Darcy stared down into the cooling black coffee that filled half her mug. She felt sick for Bucky. She couldn’t imagine how horrible it must be for him to feel so exposed to people who had used him and cared nothing about him.

“How is talking about it with you going to make it any better?”

“Might not, but it can’t hurt. I think you need to come to terms with these memories. That’s the only way you’re going to break their hold on you. It’s not like we can flip a switch in your brain and just make them all go away.”

“How the hell am I supposed to come to terms with this?” Bucky’s soft voice had taken on a sharper edge.

“What about replacing those bad memories with better ones?”

Someone–probably Bucky–huffed out a forceful breath of air. “What?”

She heard someone shifting around and then Sam said, “What if you thought of something else when you heard that word? Something better? Someone reciting them to you wouldn’t be conjuring up those memories that hurt, they’d just be reminding you of better moments.”

Darcy held her breath, waiting for Bucky to respond. She knew she should leave. The conversation was far too personal for her to justify staying. The poor man had been through so much and here she was was spying on him to assuage her own curiosity. But it wasn’t just curiosity. She _cared_. Listening wouldn’t help him, but it upset her that he’d been through so much and people like her just dismissed him as intimidating or grumpy.

“I don’t know how to do that,” Bucky said, his voice flat.

“What do you mean” Sam asked.

“Make better memories. I can’t do that. I don’t know how. I…”

When Bucky didn’t continue, Sam said, “You need to let people get to know you, Barnes. Friends can help, but not if you won’t talk to anyone.”

“I don’t know how.”

She heard Sam sigh and crinkle a piece of paper. “Just… talk with someone you don’t normally speak to. Someone you think might be supportive or someone you think might be able to understand. What about Clint? Natasha?”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone I’m not talking to already. I think I’m done for today.”

“Barnes…”

She heard someone get up.

“Barnes, come sit down.”

“I’m done.”

“Same time, same place on Thursday, then. We’ll talk about the third word.”

“Fine.” The way Bucky said the word made it sound like he spit it out instead of spoke it. He walked out, leaving the door open behind him.

Darcy couldn’t finish her coffee. Her stomach was in knots for him. She waited until Sam left before dumping it down the sink and leaving. She spent the rest of the afternoon with her mind on Bucky, not on her work.


	2. Chapter 2

> _“But now I'm alright. But something died so that I could stay alive. And it feels like this is the end, though I know I'm starting again.” - Philosopher Kings (The End)_

Darcy thought about Bucky all night. She couldn’t get him out of her head, couldn’t get that soft voice to leave her alone. It bothered her that when Sam suggested he make new memories he’d just dismissed the idea as being useless, not because he didn’t think it would work but because he didn’t know how to make good memories. Darcy liked taking care of people; she’d made a career out of taking care of Jane these past few years. She suspected if Jane disappeared that she’d make a career out of taking care of Tony Stark or Bruce Banner. She’d cleaned up after them and brought them coffee and nagged them to eat often enough, even without the perk in her paycheck.

She was a helper through and through, but she didn’t know how to help Bucky Barnes. They weren’t friends; she didn’t know him. She was positive he didn’t know her name, likely didn’t even know she existed. He wasn’t exactly approachable, appearing skittish at best and utterly closed off at worst. He seemed to trust Steve and Sam, but going behind his back to ask his friends how she could help seemed like a terrible thing to do. It reeked of her treating him like a child, and Bucky Barnes was definitely not a child.

The next day, she slipped out of the building and walked a few blocks into Chelsea. There was a jazz record shop there that she was hopeful would have just what she needed to make him feel better. With the assistance of the shop owner, she bought a double album of Charlie Parker’s songs from the forties and fifties. The cover was worn, creased and battered at the corners, but the smell reminded her of an old book, and it looked authentic in some way. It had been years since she'd held a vinyl record in her hands, not since her sophomore year of college when she’d fancied herself a music snob.

She stopped by a second hand shop on her way home, but they wanted way too much for the only record player in the store. She resigned herself to looking at a couple other places tomorrow and made the rest of the walk back to Park Avenue with the sun at her back and a warm late-summer breeze on her face. She vacillated between being proud of her purchase and cringing with embarrassment that she'd ever thought she could do anything to make his life better. How full of herself could she be?

The record sat on her dresser that night, propped up by some shirts she'd folded but not bothered to stow away in a drawer. The next day she told herself she wouldn't go back to the lounge, but at fifteen ‘til one, she slipped through the kitchen door and poured herself a cup of coffee from the stale pot that Bruce insisted on drinking from each morning. He didn't trust Tony’s espresso machine. Or, rather, he didn't think it tasted nearly as good as a simple pot of coffee. In fact, Bruce was the reason she even knew about this out-of-the-way lounge a few floors down from the lab.

She heated the coffee in the microwave, hoping she'd get caught in the act by Sam. She didn't, though. He walked in shortly after she'd sat down at the bistro table in the corner. She knew it was him by the way he moved with longer strides and a heavier step. Bucky was slightly shorter and his step lighter, like he wanted to be invisible. Darcy shook her head at herself for obsessing over the poor guy.

Bucky showed up a few minutes after one, but didn't offer Sam a word of greeting. She listened to them settle into the plush armchairs or maybe the couch that was next to the little bar with three high stools in front. She knew that bar was stocked with alcohol because she and Jane had raided it one night when Jane had been worried about Thor getting hurt on a mission.

“You give any thought to talking to someone? Expanding your horizons?” Sam asked, breaking the ice.

“No.”

“You’re a shitty patient, you know that, Barnes?”

“Yeah, I know that.”

Sam chuckled under his breath and said, “Well, as long as you know it, I guess. So, let's talk about what the third word reminds you of.”

Silence stretched between them for a long moment before Bucky replied with, “Right before I got my papers… I’d been saving up for my own place.” She heard him huff out a sharp, amused breath. “Actually, that ain’t true. I was savin’ up for a car. Thought I was going to buy a BMW three-twenty-seven and drive across the country. Pick up girls and have a good time. That was… a long time ago.”

“What kind of car?” Sam asked.

“They called them cabriolets back then, a convertible. You could fold the top down. It wasn’t ever gonna to happen. I lived in Brooklyn where cars were just a waste of space and money. I was helping out my parents with bills. I’d just enlisted and was waitin’ on my assignment.” He paused for a moment and then said, “Yeah, it was never going to happen. I told my parents I was saving for my own place, and I told myself it was for the car even though that was a lie.”

“So, where does… the word come in?”

Bucky cleared his throat and said, “Seventeen comes in because… Well, that’s what I’d saved. I had it tucked away in my wallet when I went dancing with a dame I’d met a week before.” He paused again, and she could hear the subtle shift of fabric, like he was trying to get comfortable. His voice had more of an edge to it when he started speaking again, saying, “While I was getting us Coca-Colas, some guy bumped into me from behind. Something… something made me think it was weird, so I followed him. By the time he got outside, I realized my wallet was gone.”

Sam hummed and said, “Pickpocket?”

“Yeah, he’d lifted it when he bumped me. I… I felt this white hot rage in me. I’d worked so hard to save up that money, that seventeen bucks. It was all I had, and I wanted that damn car so much. I, uh, I grabbed his shoulder and turned him around right as he was pullin’ out the money, my money. Didn’t even really think about what I was doing; I just… pulled back and punched him in the face. He went down hard.”

“You get your money back?”

Bucky didn’t speak for a very long moment. The seconds ticked away, and Darcy held her breath. “No. It fell on the sidewalk, and I was too stupid or too angry to pick it up. I just… I started kicking this guy in the stomach, the back. I jumped on top of him and rolled him onto his back, punched his face until my knuckles were bloody. Two guys pulled me off him. I… I think I would have killed him if they hadn’t. By the time my brain was working again, the cash was gone. My wallet was there, but no bills. All that for nothin’.”

“You lost your temper,” Sam said.

“I wanted to kill him. A month later is when I got sent off to Wisconsin for basic.”

“Do you think you were so angry because he tried to steal from you or because you knew you’d never get the car?”

Bucky took his time before answering the question. “I knew the car wasn’t gonna happen. It was a dream. I’d been drafted and was just waiting for my assignment. I knew it would be Europe after boot camp. I knew I might die. I was just pissed off that he would try to steal something from me that I was never gonna to have in the first place. It just… got to me.”

“That’s understandable,” Sam said in a kind voice.

She sipped the lukewarm coffee and listened to the soft whir of the fan in the fridge. Bucky and Sam were both quiet.

“You need to give some more thought to talking to someone other than me or Steve.”

“I don’t know what I’d say,” Bucky said.

“You’re overthinking it, Barnes. Just say hi and listen.”

“I… I don’t know how to talk to people any more. It’s been too long.”

Sam huffed out a frustrated breath. “You talk to me. It’s not that hard. Clint? Natasha? Bruce? Thor?”

“Just let me do it my way. Just let me get these memories out and maybe you’re right. Maybe it _will_ be better.”

“Does it feel better?” Sam asked.

“It feels… like a relief to tell someone so these aren’t just things HYDRA knows.”

“Good. _Good_ ,” Sam said.

They talked in soft tones for another five minutes before getting up and leaving. Sam had business to take care of with the VA and wouldn’t be back until Sunday, so they agreed to continue with the fourth word Sunday afternoon. Darcy decided she would stop lying to herself about posting up at her spot in the kitchen. She'd go out of her way to be there on Sunday afternoon, even if it was only a matter of time before she got caught.

She slipped out the kitchen door and went back to the lab. Jane was asleep at her desk, her index finger pressing down on the space bar so the screen was filled with spaces, no text. Carefully, she removed Jane's hands from the keyboard and slipped a small knit blanket over her friend's shoulders. She went in search of Bruce, but found Tony listening to music too loudly in his private lab instead.

He was more familiar with the city, so he might be able to help. “Hey, Tony,” she said over the drums and guitars, smiling at him sweetly.

“Hey, Lewis. What do you want?”

“Who says I want anything?”

“Your face. Nobody smiles at me like that unless they want something.”

Darcy twirled her finger in the air and said, “Can you turn the music down?”

He asked FRIDAY to lower the volume and then turned to her. “You want a paycheck?”

Darcy raised her brows. “No? But I won't turn one down.”

“Working on it,” he said, flipping a schematic up into the air in front of him.

“Working on a paycheck?”

“Yeah. I didn't realize you weren't on the payroll. Or, I did. I just didn't think about it.”

“Dude. I'll get you coffee. You don't have to pay me. Jane already is with her grant money,” she said, shaking her head at him

“Thought you weren't going to turn it down,” he replied, pulling open a drawer and digging around for the correct screwdriver.

“I’m not, but I didn't ask for it either.”

“What did you really want, Lewis?” he asked.

“Uh, advice on where to get a record player.”

“FRIDAY, order a record player and have it delivered to Lewis’s apartment,” Tony said, not taking his eyes off the glowing blue text in front of him.

Darcy opened her mouth to protest, but the artificial intelligence program interrupted before she could say anything. “A modern record player or a working older model, sir?”

Tony glanced up at her and raised his brows. “Oh, uh, maybe something from the fifties or sixties. Something with some character,” Darcy told FRIDAY.

“Of course, Ms. Lewis. I'll have it delivered to your residence tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay. Awesome sauce.”

“Don’t know why you want a dinosaur like that,” Tony said. “Thought you were a child of the digital age.”

Darcy grabbed his coffee mug. It was nearly empty. “Everybody knows music sounds better on vinyl.”

He snorted when she turned her back to get him some more coffee. “That's a lie and you know it. Lossless audio sounds better than some crummy grooves on wax.”

“I'm going for the ambiance,” she relied. “You know, there _is_ such a thing as too techy.”

Tony shot her a wide-eyed look and said, “Uh, paycheck revoked, Lewis.”

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

As it turned out, her paycheck wasn’t revoked. Through some miracle only Tony Stark could pull off, her usual modest direct deposit from Jane’s grant funds was supplemented with, all things considered, an obscenely large deposit from Stark Industries. Darcy had no idea that getting someone coffee, making sure he ate lunch, and telling him when the music volume got obnoxious was worth what he was paying. She, however, wasn’t about to complain.

Later that day, the record player arrived outside the door to her apartment on the twentieth floor of Stark Tower. Jane was living just down the hall in a place she shared with Thor when he was around, which had been often lately. Darcy’s friend and boss was in heaven with her research and her easily accessible boyfriend. Darcy brought the box inside her apartment and carefully pulled the player out of the packaging.

The wooden case was dark–maybe some sort of walnut–and beautiful. She sat it on her coffee table and unlatched the case to lift the lid. The table with the black slipmat was beneath, surrounding a gleaming spindle that would hold the records in place. Darcy brushed her fingertips over the mat and then traced the pad of her index finger over the arm that held the needle. She hadn’t used a record player since her college days when she’d go to the two record shops near campus and monopolize their listening booths when her roommate got to be too obnoxious.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Ms. Lewis?”

“Thank you for the record player. It’s beautiful.”

“My pleasure, Ms. Lewis. I will pass your thanks along to Mr. Stark.”

Darcy lifted the cord that sprouted from the back of the case, realizing she’d forgotten one very important thing: speakers. “FRIDAY, is there a way I can listen to a record or will I need to order speakers?”

“You may use the speakers built into your apartment. I took the liberty of ordering the appropriate cable.”

“Oh, thank you. Can… could I use this in the lounge on the forty-second floor?”

“Certainly.”

Darcy dug out the cable from the box and connected it to the cord on the record player before stretching it across the living room floor to plug it into the stereo system each apartment had built in. After getting everything plugged and turned on, she retrieved the Charlie Parker record from the bedroom and carefully settled it onto the spindle.

When she placed the needle down on the outside edge of the record, she heard that familiar crackle and hiss. A moment later she heard the sound of a piano, soft and lazy, almost tender. A saxophone, Charlie Parker’s signature instrument, joined in a moment later. Darcy smiled and settled back into the couch to listen.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky and what he thought of the song, if he even knew this song. A quick search on the internet told her that a great deal of Charlie Parker’s catalog had been recorded after Bucky left for Europe to fight in the war. Her hope was that she’d give him the record, and he’d be able to enjoy new-to-him music from one of his favorite musicians. Or hear old favorites again, if that was the case. She just needed to figure out a way to give him the record player and the record without him knowing it was her. Explaining that she’d been eavesdropping on his sessions with Sam wasn’t something she was ready to do.

She fell asleep on the couch, listening to Charlie Parker’s saxophone that night. When she woke, the record player had stopped, but the fuzzy sound of electricity still buzzed out of the speaker like white noise.

While getting ready for the day, she started making plans for how exactly she could get the record and the player into Bucky’s hands without him knowing she’d been involved. After three cups of coffee and chasing down an obscure astronomy text at the library for Jane, she decided to ask for FRIDAY’s help. The AI confirmed that she would be happy to assist, provided Darcy’s requests did not violate privacy or security protocols.

Just after dinner, Darcy carried the record player and record up to the lounge, stashing them behind the bar. She carefully penned a note, changing the looping fluidity of her handwriting into a spiky scrawl. Bucky Barnes didn’t know her name, much less what her handwriting looked like, but she couldn’t be too safe. He wasn’t exactly an idiot, and if anyone could figure it out, then it was probably him.

The note joined the record player behind the bar, and she took the elevator down to the lobby. There was a place two blocks over that made the best milkshakes, and she’d decided that morning that if they had malts, then it would be fate and she’d get him one. As it turned out, they did. Darcy hurried back to the lounge and stashed the malt in the freezer while she plugged in the record player and dropped the first record in the double album onto the spindle. She carefully sat the slipcover on the counter and laid her note on top of Charlie Parker’s face.

_**I heard you like Charlie Parker and malts. Thought you deserved something nice. The record and the player are yours to keep.** _

“FRIDAY?” she asked.

“Yes, Ms. Lewis?”

“Can you ask Bucky Barnes to come to this lounge? Please don’t mention my name or tell him I arranged this.”

“Certainly,” FRIDAY said. After a brief moment, the AI continued with, “He’s been notified.”

“Can you tell me when he’s in the elevator or the stairs on the way?”

“Yes, Ms. Lewis.”

Darcy sat down on one of the stools at the bar and looked at the shiny black record and the unfamiliar handwriting of her note. She waited so long that she wondered if he’d been suspicious and decided to not come. Five minutes ticked by, then another ten. Darcy felt her enthusiasm fading and her heart dropping into her stomach.

FRIDAY’s voice through the speakers made Darcy nearly jump out of her chair. “Mr. Barnes just entered the elevator, Ms. Lewis.”

She slipped off the stool and took the milkshake out of the freezer. It was huge and in a white styrofoam cup with a single straw sticking out. Darcy sat it right next to the record cover and adjusted her note before starting the first song. Instead of leaving out the main door, she stepped into the kitchen to leave from the side door and take the stairs. It would be better than running into him on her way out.

Something made her linger in the kitchen, hopeful that she could see his reaction if she was careful. Breathing softly, she stood by the doorway and waited for him. She saw his shadow on the floor from her spot in the kitchen, but she couldn’t see him from where she stood behind the wall by the doorway. He remained there for a long moment before he stepped across the threshold.

Darcy peeked around the edge of the doorframe. She held her breath as he walked across the floor, his back straight and shoulders stiff. He was in a pair of black cargo pants with boots and a white tee. It felt so strange to see him within the confines of the lounge. She'd listened to him spill the contents of his mind into the room, but had never seen him within it. It was also strange to see him so close. She'd never been quite so near him.

She held her breath as he approached the record player and the note. His head bent down and a lock of hair fell from behind his ear as he read it. He tucked the hair back into place and stood there looking at the record player and the shake. She couldn't see his face, and it made her wonder if he was happy or upset or confused. For a moment, she felt utterly silly and stupid for thinking that a jazz record and a shake would mean anything to someone like him.

Darcy frowned at herself for being such an idiot. She should leave before he heard her. Just as she convinced her muscles to start moving, he turned around and looked right at her. She was halfway in and halfway out of the kitchen, stuck in his gaze.

“Oh,” she said softly, eyes wide and embarrassed, body frozen. His eyes were gorgeous, even from across the room.

“Hi,” he said, softly. His voice was just loud enough to hear over the music.

“Hi,” Darcy replied. “Sorry for interrupting. I was… just leaving.”

“Did you see who left this?” he asked.

Darcy shook her head. “Nope. Sorry. I'm just… going.”

She turned around right as he said, “Don't.”

Shocked, she whirled back around to look at him from her spot in the kitchen doorway. “Don't what?”

“Leave.” He cleared his throat. “You don't have to leave. You don't have to leave because of me. If you don’t want to.” His eyes were just a little too wide, his body just a little too tense. She wondered if people made him nervous.

Slowly, she stepped out of the kitchen and gave him a small smile. “Do you like jazz?”

His gaze dropped to the floor and he nodded. “Yeah. Are you sure you don't know who left this for me?”

“Sorry. I don't.”

He turned back to the bar and looked down at her note again. Darcy walked across the floor to stand near him, but not too close. She knew he was a fan of keeping a bubble of personal space around himself. The few times she'd seen him around the Tower, he’d gone out of his way to keep himself separate from others. She wasn't even sure he knew he was doing it; the reactions seemed more subconscious than anything.

“It was nice of them, whoever it was,” he said softly as the second song started playing.

“What's in the cup?” she asked, feigning interest.

“Malt,” he said, sitting down on the nearest stool and pulling the cup over in front of him.

She watched him take a sip. His eyes slid closed while he tasted it. The muscles of his throat flexed as he swallowed. Darcy looked back up at his eyes when they opened again.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Darcy.”

“I'm… Bucky,” he said, like it was difficult to force his name out.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky. I think I've seen you around.”

“I've seen you around, too. You work in the lab.” His statement floored her. He'd seen her around? He knew where she worked? She didn't think he knew she even existed.

“Yeah, I do. With Jane Foster.”

Bucky nodded at the stool next to him. “Do you want to sit down?”

Darcy raised her brows. Her? He was asking her to join him? He didn't talk to anyone but Steve and Sam. “Oh, okay. Yeah, sure.”

He took a long pull from the milkshake with his eyes closed again while she settled onto the stool a little less than a foot away. Darcy rested her forearms on the bar top and looked over at him.

Bucky’s eyes opened and the depth of them floored her. It was almost too much. He was raw, stripped bare, everything was right there on the surface.

“How do you like the record?” she asked.

He dropped his gaze again. “It's very nice. Very thoughtful.”

“I… I didn't…” she said, trying to assure him she wasn’t the person who left it. Trying to lie to him, her brain reminded her.

“So you said,” he murmured.

“How’s the malt?”

He pushed it down the bar toward her. “You can have a taste. I don't… I don't mind sharing. If you do, then there are probably some cups and straws behind the bar.”

Darcy picked up the styrofoam cup and said, “I don't mind,” before sealing her lips over the top of the straw. His gaze flicked down to her mouth and then slid further down to the top of the bar. She sucked some of the malt through the straw and watched him glance up at her through his lashes like he was shy. It was breathtaking and made her want to do anything and everything to make him happy.

When she sat the cup back down on the bar, he said, “Well? How was it?”

“Good. Different than a milkshake though.”

“Malts were big in the thirties. Even bigger in the forties and fifties, from what I hear,” Bucky said. Tentatively, he reached out to take the cup back. She watched as he closed his mouth over the same straw she'd drunk from. His eyes slipped closed once again.

“I’m not familiar with Charlie Parker,” she admitted, listening to the sweet sounds the musician coaxed out of his saxophone. They seemed to linger in the air. She’d been thinking about Bucky so much lately that it felt surreal sitting next to him at the bar, hearing his voice talking to her and not Sam.

“He played at some of the clubs in New York before I was deployed. Saw him a few times with Count Basie,” Bucky’s voice was so damn soft, but she could still hear every word between the almost mournful notes of the music.

“Count Basie?”

“Pianist. He was also a bandleader, big in the thirties.” Bucky paused and looked up to meet her gaze. “You know who I am, right?”

“Bucky Barnes,” she replied. “Don’t worry; I know you were around in the olden days, so I’m not confused about you visiting jazz clubs in the thirties.” Darcy smiled at him and watched him try to smile back. He could only manage to tighten his lips against his teeth.

Darcy reached out and pulled the cup over to take another drink. She could feel his heavy gaze on her as she sucked on the straw and then licked her lips. “Aren’t you afraid of me?” he asked as she was swallowing.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Should I be?”

He wrapped the vibranium fingers of his left hand around the cup. She watched as he picked it up and sipped from the straw. The realization that their mouths had touched the same straw was oddly erotic. “No,” he replied, finally answering her question. “Most people are, though.”

“I’m not most people.”

He licked his lips and drank again. “Yeah, I get that,” he agreed, putting the cup down between them.

She immediately pulled it closer to her and dipped her head down to drink from the straw while the cup remained on the bar top. Her hair fell forward, and she tucked it behind her ear as she thought about his lips right where hers were, wrapped around the straw. The malt was sweet and better than a regular milkshake. Or maybe her mind was just playing tricks on her. Anything would be better with him and the music.

She pushed the cup back over to him. “Thanks for sharing with me.”

“My pleasure,” he murmured softly, almost low enough for her to not pick up on what he’d said.

“I didn’t know you were so nice,” Darcy teased.

He raised his brows. “I’m not.”

Waving her hand in the air to dismiss his response, she said, “Sure you are.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

She looked over at him, a questioning look on her face. His eyes cut to the record player and the milkshake. “Oh, the music and the malt?” she asked. “Well, I don’t know anything about them, but I’d say you’ve been through enough and deserve a little pick-me-up. Maybe it’s just a gift from the universe.”

He looked at her, emotions she couldn’t pin down or name swirling in his eyes. It was almost enough to knock the breath right out of her lungs. Darcy slipped off the stool before she said something stupid to him.

“I should leave you alone. Sorry to have bothered you,” she mumbled, staring at the floor. “Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

“You ain’t a bother. Nice to meet you, too, Darcy.”

It took every ounce of her will power not to look over her shoulder to see if he was watching her leave or if his back was still to the door. She turned to the left and walked down the hallway to the elevator, her thoughts jumbled. He knew her name, knew she worked in the lab. He shared his malt with her. Darcy licked her lips, remembering the sweetness of the ice cream and the way their lips had touched the same straw. It was almost euphoric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a kind comment on the first chapter. It makes me feel great to know that you all remember me and are glad I've returned with another story. It was also so wonderful to read all those supportive messages, telling me to take it easy and take care of myself. You all are the BEST.
> 
> As for this chapter, are you curious about one of the songs that was playing while Bucky and Darcy shared a malt? If so, take a listen to Charlie Parker's [My Old Flame](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOwEr4UaqzM). It's lovely.
> 
> Does Bucky know who left him the gift? Hmm...


	3. Chapter 3

> _“Lately, I'm just an animal trapped out in a cage. And baby you're something beautiful. You're something that’s yet to be tamed.” - Night Moves (Alabama)_

Darcy settled into the chair at the small kitchen table and looked down into the half-full mug of coffee. It was the last of the pot, lukewarm and probably not very good. She didn't want to make a fresh one now, not so close to one o’clock. Sam and Bucky would be arriving any moment now, and she didn't want to risk them walking in on the rich smell of newly brewed coffee.

She had thought of nothing but Bucky since the previous evening when he'd shared his milkshake with her. The soft rumble of his voice and the depth lurking behind his eyes were haunting. She desperately wanted to help him, but the task was overwhelming. How could you sooth those wounds? How could you help him forget the things he'd done or make him understand they weren't his fault? Truth be told, she didn’t even know the half of it. She didn’t know _him_.

The record player was gone when she'd entered the lounge a few minutes before. She could only assume it had been taken by Bucky as she'd intended. That gave her hope maybe she could help him out by doing little things that wouldn't give her away.

Sam arrived first and Bucky followed him in only a couple minutes later. Darcy held her breath as he walked past the kitchen doorway. He didn’t even hesitate, just continued on and settled into the lounge with Sam.

“How have you been the past couple days?”

“Fine,” Bucky replied.

“Steve said you got a record player.”

“Tell Steve I hate when you two talk about me behind my back.” There wasn’t any malice to the words, just a statement of fact made in a gentle voice.

Sam didn’t respond right away. Finally, he said, “I apologize. I know you hate that. I shouldn’t have–”

“It’s fine,” Bucky said, interrupting. “The record player was a gift from someone.”

“Hmm,” Sam said. “Do you mind telling me who?”

Silence. Darcy stared through the doorway of the kitchen. She could see the wall beside the entrance to the lounge, but that was the extent of her view. She heard the shift of clothing and light footsteps. His footsteps. They were getting closer.

Her eyes widened and her fingers squeezed the coffee mug when he stepped into the doorway. He was dressed exactly like he’d been the day before–a pair of black cargo pants and a white tee. His hair was loose, falling over his ears and around his jawline.

She’d been found out, and she felt horrible. If he didn’t like Steve and Sam talking behind his back, then he likely hated her for eavesdropping on his therapy sessions. Except, he didn’t look mad or upset or even surprised.

“Hi,” Darcy said softly.

“Hi,” he replied before saying, “If you’re gonna listen, then you might as well come into the lounge and stop hidin’ in here.”

“I… I didn’t… I mean, I don’t… I didn’t know you were…”

“I knew you were in here from the beginning when I was talkin’ about the first word. About longing.”

She felt sick to her stomach. He’d caught her eavesdropping, _and_ he’d caught her in lies. “I’m so sorry,” Darcy said.

“I’m not mad at you. I… don’t mind if you want to listen.”

“What?” she asked, unable to comprehend what he was saying.

“I know you’re the one who left the record player and the malt last night. You’re the only one who could have, the only one who knew besides Sam.”

“How did you know I was here the whole time?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to another and glanced over his shoulder to the side where Sam was probably sitting. When he looked back at her, he said, “I could hear you move, hear you breathe. I can smell your… shampoo, maybe?”

Darcy pushed a forceful breath out her nose half in amusement and half in disbelief. “Does it smell like apples?”

“Yes.”

“It’s my shampoo.”

“It’s… nice,” he murmured, dropping his gaze to the floor in front of him.

“Uh, thanks. Although, I don’t know why you’d compliment me after I’ve been spying on you.”

“I haven’t said anything I’d mind you hearing.”

“Still,” Darcy said. What did he mean he didn’t mind her hearing? He was a private guy. She had thought he would’ve kick her out if he ever discovered she was hiding away in the kitchen.

He looked up at her again. “Why did you leave the record player and the malt for me?”

Her answer was immediate and honest. “Because I wanted to make you feel better.” Darcy shook her head. “That was a stupid thing to say. A record and a shake can’t fix anything.”

“It made me feel better,” he countered. “It did.”

She smiled at him, her heart beating overtime and heat burning in her chest. “I’m still sorry I eavesdropped on your private conversations. That was shitty of me.”

Bucky shrugged. “Are you gonna to join us or do you wanna stay in here?”

“You don’t mind?”

He shook his head. “I don’t mind.”

Darcy stood and followed him into the lounge. Sam was sitting in an armchair, his legs crossed and a pad of paper balanced on his thigh. His brows lifted when he saw who Bucky had been talking to. “Darcy?” he asked, surprise evident in his voice.

She gave a weak, embarrassed smile. “Uh, hi?”

“You know her?” Bucky asked Sam, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Yeah, we've talked a few times,” Sam replied.

“Oh.”

Sam frowned at Bucky. “How do _you_ know her, Barnes?”

“I don’t, not really. She’s the person who gave me the record player, though.” Bucky sat down on the far end of the couch and crossed his ankle over his knee before folding his arms over his chest. It closed him off completely. Darcy didn’t miss the not-so-subtle body language.

“And you gave him the record player because…?”

Darcy shrugged. “Because I wanted to.”

“She’s been listening to us for the last three sessions,” Bucky told Sam before sliding his gaze up to her. She was still standing between the couch and Sam’s armchair.

“You’ve been what?” Sam asked.

Darcy winced. “Yeah. Sorry?”

“How do you feel about that, Barnes?”

Bucky shrugged. “I knew she was there. I don’t mind.”

“You don’t mind that other people hear or you don’t mind if _she_ hears?”

She looked over at Bucky, and it seemed like he was almost folding in on himself. She’d never seen a man so naturally physically imposing try to make himself so small. “I don’t mind if she hears,” he murmured, his eyes trained on his booted foot that was resting on his knee.

“I see,” Sam replied. “Did you ask her to join us in here?”

“Yes.”

Sam lifted a hand and gestured toward the other end of the couch. Darcy stepped over and sank down into the cushions before glancing at Bucky. He was watching her from the corner of his eye. She wasn’t sure how she should treat him. They weren’t exactly strangers, but they weren’t friends either. And she knew some intimate things about his life that someone who wasn’t a friend shouldn’t know.

Sam cleared his throat and said, “Well, Barnes? Are you going to tell Darcy and I about the fourth word?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he replied.

“Why don’t you tell Darcy what that word is.”

Bucky looked up and over at her as she sat a few feet away. “Daybreak,” he said softly. “The word is daybreak.” After a pause, he asked, “Do you know the others that came before?”

“Umm, I think so. I mean, I don’t want to… say them because… because you didn’t want Sam to say them.”

The tension in the room was thick. Sam shifted in the chair, but didn’t interrupt or prod Bucky into speaking. Darcy opened her mouth to break the strained silence, but Bucky cut her off before she could get a word out. “Longing. Rusted.” He looked up to meet her gaze. “And seventeen.”

“And…” she trailed off, remembering that he didn’t want them repeated.

“You can say it,” he told her with a nod in her direction.

“Daybreak,” she said softly.

He nodded. They sat in silence for a long moment before Sam said, “You’re doing great, Barnes. You’ve come a long way.”

She had a vague idea of how much it cost Bucky to string those words together for her, but Darcy suspected she just knew the tip of the iceberg.

“Shut up, Wilson,” Bucky muttered.

Sam laughed softly and motioned for Bucky to continue. Darcy watched Bucky heave out a huge sigh and say, “We were under heavy enemy fire.”

“What year was it?” Sam asked.

“Forty-three,” Bucky replied. “My unit… we had never been on the front lines much. Not like that. It was… it was hell. I watched men I had trained with and lived with for months–get their legs blasted to pieces or their heads blown off their shoulders. I can’t… It was bad.” He glanced over at Darcy. “Sorry,” he told her.

Was he apologizing for the descriptions? She shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I want to hear what you have to say.”

“It went on for hours. _Hours_. Felt like days, really. The Nazis were gaining ground, and we were getting forced back, pinched between two of their units. My men were losing hope. So was I. I just… I told them that if we could make it through the night that we’d be okay. I said things would be better by sunrise, by… daybreak. We would be able to see the enemy and find a clear path through. We wouldn’t die in the trenches we’d dug.”

Darcy knew it was something that had happened long ago, but the expression on his face and the mile long stare in his eyes made her feel like it had just happened yesterday. Maybe for him it was still that fresh.

“And at sunrise?” Sam prompted when Bucky stopped, lost in his memories.

Bucky’s lips twisted into a jagged, broken smile that showed no joy. “The tank came.”

“Allies?”

“We thought so at first. They were German forces, but their tank–it was terrifying–it blew up the Nazi units that had been engagin’ us. One shell and they were gone, wiped out. I’d have been surprised if it even left recognizable body parts behind.”

Darcy frowned. She’d seen her share of shit since Thor had fallen out of the sky and fallen in love with her boss. Aliens and explosions and evil gods and magic that shouldn’t exist. She’d seen a lot. But she’d never seen war like Bucky was describing, and she hoped she never would.

“Eddie… he was just a kid. Eddie jumped up, threw his damn hands in air, cheerin’ and clappin’. I watched him climb out of our trench. Something in the back of my mind told me to pull him back, but… I was frozen. It was like I was watchin’ everything happen, not actually there.”

“You were in shock,” Sam assured Bucky.

“Eddie thought the tide had turned. The sun was comin’ up over the hill in front of us, and he yelled back at me that… that I was right, that day was breakin’ and we were saved. He said the Germans were turning on each other.” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. “And then he turned back toward the sun and a bullet blew the right side of his head off.”

Darcy’s gasp was involuntary, but it knocked Bucky out of his memory. He glanced over at her. “Sorry,” he said again.

“It’s okay. Don’t be,” she assured him.

“Was it HYDRA?” Sam asked.

Bucky’s gaze darted over to him. “Yeah, it was HYDRA. They captured us; we knew fighting wasn’t an option. They had weapons we couldn’t compete with.” He sighed and turned his eyes back to the floor. “They took the survivors–there were maybe fifty of us–to their weapons facility. Turned us into slaves, workin’ to build the guns and tanks that would kill our own men.”

Darcy felt sick for him. She’d heard the story–that he was in the war, got captured, escaped with Captain America’s help and formed the Howling Commandos, fell off a train trying to complete a mission with Cap, got brainwashed by HYDRA and was their very best assassin for a few decades before a fight with Cap knocked him out of his hypnotized state. She’d followed the bombing in Vienna and knew Bucky had been blamed. While the news didn’t really say much about it, she also knew he’d been cleared of that.

Tony had mentioned his fight with Cap and Bucky in Siberia, but he wouldn’t go into much detail. In the past couple years, fences had been mended as much as they could. Captain America was never going to be the US government’s golden boy like he’d been before, but Tony had helped everyone come to some sort of peaceful agreement that kept Cap out of jail and allowed Bucky to live in the country. She suspected Pepper Potts played a large part in Tony helping to broker that deal.

“That’s all. That’s… daybreak,” Bucky said, his voice knocking Darcy out of her thoughts.

Sam said, “Have you given any more thought to trying to make some happier memories?”

“No,” Bucky replied, his voice flat. “That’s not something I can do.”

“Maybe one day you’ll be comfortable enough to,” Sam replied gently. “Time can heal, you know.”

“Maybe,” Bucky said. He didn’t sound like he agreed. In fact, he sounded like he didn’t believe Sam at all. Time hadn’t exactly been kind to Bucky Barnes. “I should go,” he muttered, pushing himself up. He didn’t look at her, just nodded at Sam and practically ran out the door.

After Bucky was gone, Sam smiled at her. It looked sad. “He trusts you,” Sam said.

“I don’t know about that,” Darcy replied.

“Oh, he does. Believe me. Why did you give him a record player?”

“Because I thought it might make him happy to hear some of those songs he told you about when he was talking about drinking malts with Steve and their dates.”

“That was nice of you. How did you two meet?”

Darcy shook her head. “We didn’t. We hadn’t. I just, I accidentally heard him talking that first day and… and I came back to hear more. We’d never spoken. I didn’t even want him to know it was from me.”

“Didn’t you?” Sam’s question felt accusatory, like he’d caught her in a lie.

“I didn’t. I…”

“You know he has enhanced strength and senses. Did you really think he didn’t know?”

Darcy frowned. “Yeah. It never occurred to me.”

Sam nodded. “Well, he could use a friend. He’s tough to get to know, though. It might take some work. You might have to try hard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, standing up. “I’m not trying to be his best friend. I just wanted to give music back to him. From one music lover to another.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed, smiling up at her.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Stop patronizing me.”

“You know, you and him got a lot in common even though you might not think it.”

She gave him the look she gave Jane when the astrophysicist insisted that she _did_ make dinner _and_ eat it. It was the look that said you’re full of shit, and we both know it. “Stop trying to analyze me,” she said, patting his shoulder as she walked around his chair and made her way to the door.

“Next session is Tuesday at one!” Sam called out as she walked through the doorway.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

If she couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky Barnes before he’d called her out, then she definitely couldn’t get him out of her head now. She spent the rest of her Sunday afternoon trying to figure out something to do for him. Darcy told herself she was planning an apology, but really she wanted to help him with those good memories that he couldn’t seem to figure out how to make. He couldn’t be blamed, especially after everything that had happened to him over the years. If it had been her, she’d probably crawl under the bed and never come out.

She ended up going to the fancy bakery five blocks away right before they closed at six that evening. They had the best butter rum muffins, and they had four left in the case. Darcy bought all of them and toted the white box filled with them back to her apartment in Stark Tower.

Her alarm sounded at twenty after five the next morning. She threw on yoga pants and an old tee before securing her hair in a messy bun at the back of her head. Fresh-faced and still sleepy, she went down the block and bought two large coffees from the hipster shop that roasted their own coffee beans in-house. Just before six o’clock, she took the box of muffins and one of the coffees upstairs.

The landing pad for the quinjet was abandoned this time of day. She knew this because after a long night of science she’d unwound up there before. The structure jutted out of the building and faced east. The sky was a deep, rich blue. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and she knew the sunrise would be warm and gorgeous in just a few minutes. Darcy had seen it firsthand several times–the way the horizon would turn pink and then it would seep up into the sky itself before the first glowing sliver of the sun would lift up to show itself.

She spread out a small knit blanket on the ground a few feet back from the edge of the pad and sat the box of muffins and the coffee down on top of it. Her own handwriting, smooth and looping, was emblazoned on the top of the white box.

**_I hope these help make it a better daybreak than those in the past._ **

“FRIDAY?” she said, walking back into the bay where the quinjet was stored.

“Yes, Ms. Lewis?”

“Can you tell Bucky Barnes that he has a gift on the landing pad?”

“Of course,” the AI told her.

Darcy smiled and took the elevator back down to her apartment. The sun would be cresting the horizon in about twenty minutes, and she didn’t want to encroach on the moment. She’d just crawled back into bed to get another hour or two of sleep when FRIDAY’s voice startled her.

“Mr. Barnes has requested you join him, Ms. Lewis.”

Darcy set up in bed. “ _What_?”

“Mr. Barnes has requested you join him on the flight deck,” FRIDAY repeated.

Rolling out of bed and righting herself, Darcy looked into the floor-length mirror at her disheveled appearance. Her hair was a bit messy and her clothing was well-worn and wrinkled. That’s not what this is about, she reminded herself. You’re not here to flirt with and look cute for the hot guy. You’re here to help him.

Since when was her purpose in life to help Bucky Barnes? Since you realized how hurt he is, her brain reminded her. Shaking her head, Darcy left her apartment and took the elevator up to the deck. On the way there, she combed her hair out with her fingers and pulled it into a high ponytail.

When she turned the corner past where the quinjet sat nestled in the bay, she saw his back sitting on the edge of the protruding deck. He was right at the ledge, legs dangling over and nothing beneath his feet. She carefully approached him, noticing that he’d pulled her blanket out there and had the box of muffins and the coffee next to him.

He looked over his shoulder when she stopped a few feet away. “Hi,” he said softly. “You came.”

She smiled. “Of course I came. You asked.”

“This is from you.” He glanced down at the box of muffins and coffee before lifting his eyes back up to her.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought it might make you happy for a minute.” Darcy sighed. “I know it can’t fix anything, but… it’s the only thing… It’s the only thing I can do.”

“It’s… it’s very kind of you.” He looked out over the city. She could see the East River and Brooklyn beyond it. “Would you… do you want to sit down with me?”

Darcy laughed softly. “I’m afraid of heights. You’re a little close to the edge there for my tastes.”

Bucky looked back at her. “I’m sorry. I don’t think about… My brain doesn’t process… I don’t think of situations as dangerous anymore. Or maybe I have a skewed idea of what danger is.”

She took a couple steps closer. He was in a pair of gray sweatpants and a black tee. He’d pulled a black baseball cap low over his eyes, like he was hiding. When he tilted his head back to look at her, she could see his eyes and how sad they looked. That brought her another couple steps closer. “Can you promise me you won’t let me fall?”

“Of course, I promise I won’t let you fall,” he repeated immediately.

Darcy took another step and found herself just a couple feet from the edge. Gazing out across the city was fine, but glancing toward the street below made her dizzy. When she looked down at him, he had extended a hand out to her. It was his left. The dim lights of the hanger behind them glinted off the polished vibranium. The moment she noticed seemed to be the exact moment he realized he’d offered her the weaponized cybernetic contraption attached to him. His arm dropped, and he made to get up and move back from the edge.

“No, it’s okay,” she told him, holding out her right hand, wiggling her fingers until he settled back down and raised his left again. Darcy rested her palm against his, curling her fingers around the metal. It was the same temperature as the air around them on this warm, early September morning.

His grip was firm, but not scary. He steadied her as she sat down a little further back than him, her legs stretched out over the concrete landing pad. She wasn’t close enough to the edge to let her feet dangle over into oblivion. Bucky moved to scoot back next to her, but stopped when she put her hand on his shoulder and moved forward.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” he whispered, wrapping his left arm behind her. Her immediate reaction was relief that he had his arm around her, that he could save her if she pitched forward toward the edge, of which her feet were hanging off now. A moment later she realized that he could just as easily push her off the ledge. In fact, pushing me would probably be easier than saving me, she thought. But he wouldn’t. She knew that for a fact, could see it in his eyes.

“Like I said, I’m afraid of heights,” she replied, scooting forward until her knees were bent and her legs were hanging off the edge. Bucky’s arm was still around her, the fingers of his left hand curled over her hip. Their thighs weren’t touching, but it was a close thing. There was less than an inch between them.

“We can move back,” he told her.

Darcy shook her head and trained her gaze on the horizon. It was gorgeous up there with the pink-tinged sky warming before her. “Just don’t let me fall.”

“I won’t.”

“Did I wake you this morning? Or did FRIDAY wake you with my message?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t sleep often. I was already awake.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking over at his profile and the way the brim of the hat curled in slightly at the sides.

He looked over at her, and the depth of his blue eyes almost took her breath away. She wondered if anyone could ever really know him, know the person behind those eyes. “Don’t be sorry. Thank you for the muffins.”

“Did you eat them?”

“No. I was waiting for you.”

Darcy laughed softly. “Okay. Well, break ‘em out.”

He used his free right hand to grab the box and pass it over to her. She carefully flipped the lid open and offered him one. “Can you take the wrapper off? I don’t want to let go of you,” he asked.

She smiled at him. “Thank you for taking my fear of heights seriously.” Darcy peeled the paper wrapper off the bottom and handed him the butter rum muffin. It was a little sticky with large granules of sugar sprinkled on the top. Watching him bite into it out of the corner of her eye, she pulled the wrapper off another and sat the box to her left.

The sun was just now clearing the horizon, lifting up above the squat buildings in the distance where Brooklyn and Queens were.

Darcy said, “It’s beautiful up here,” before biting into the bottom of her muffin.

When she looked over at Bucky, he was watching her, the corners of his mouth lifted up in a small grin. She raised her brows in question and he said, “Why do you eat it from the bottom?”

“Because the best part is the top. I always save the best part for last.”

“I see,” he whispered, turning his gaze back out over the city. “It _is_ nice up here. I’ve never sat here before.”

“Me neither. I’ve sat back there.” She used her thumb to point back over her shoulder. “Mostly because I didn’t have an Avenger to keep me from falling to my death.”

“I'm not an Avenger.”

“Close enough,” she told him.

Bucky finished his muffin and rubbed his fingers together to knock loose the crumbs and granules of sugar. He picked up the coffee cup and silently offered it to her first.

“It's yours. I left mine downstairs.”

“I'll share with you,” he said.

She smiled at him and shifted the muffin over to her left hand so she could take a sip from his cup. He drank after her when she handed it back. His lips fit right over the lid where hers had been. She found it difficult to pull her eyes away.

“I hope you like your coffee black. I didn't think to get cream or sugar.”

“I thought black is the only way to enjoy coffee,” Bucky replied, just a hint of humor in his gentle voice.

Darcy chuckled. “You are correct.” She finished her muffin, savoring the sugary sweet top and the security of his prosthetic fingers curled over her hip. “Want another?” she asked, lifting up the box and flipping open the lid.

Bucky plucked another muffin out, holding it by the top so she could peel the paper off for him. He inhaled it as he watched the sunrise. She split her attention between the eastern sky and the man beside her.

“Where did you find the Charlie Parker record?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

“A jazz record store in Chelsea.” Darcy peeled the paper off the final muffin and offered it to him.

He broke off the bottom half, leaving the top in her hand. “I've been listening to it. Do you think they'd have Count Basie or Dizzy Gillespie?”

“I'm sure they would. Do you want to go with me one day?”

He ate the half of the muffin he'd taken and washed it down with a generous drink from the coffee cup. “I haven't left the building in a long time.”

“How long?”

“Over four months.” He offered her the coffee.

Darcy took a bite of muffin and chased it with the quickly cooling coffee before saying, “That's a long time. Why don't you leave?”

“Dangerous. I'm still… I'm programmed still.”

“Ah, those words you've been talking to Sam about,” she replied, finishing off the muffin top and almost all the coffee.

When she passed the cup back to him, he finished it and said, “Yeah, the words.”

“You could go incognito. Wear a funny disguise and pretend you're someone else.”

“Maybe.”

“I'll go with you.”

He sat the empty cup down and placed the pad of his middle finger between his lips. Her breath caught when she saw him lick the sugary sweetness off with a subtle flick of his tongue. “I'll think about it,” Bucky said.

“If you don't want to go, then give me a list of what you're looking for and I'll pick them up.”

He shook his head. “I can't make you do that.”

“No trouble. I like helping people. Let me help you.”

He exhaled a heavy breath and said, “I'm no good at being helped.”

“Get used to it.” She playfully bounced her shoulder into him. His fingers on her hip tightened to keep her firmly in place. She felt so safe and so lost in him that she'd forgotten about the oblivion below them and how tilting her body forward could mean death.

He looked over and gave her that almost-smile. “I'll try.”

She sighed in contentment right before the door to the landing pad opened and two maintenance men walked out onto the deck a few yards behind them.

“I should go,” Darcy told him. “Thanks for sharing breakfast with me.”

He removed his arm and turned to watch her slide back. Darcy pushed herself to her feet once she was a yard or two from the edge.

“Thank you for… everything,” he said softly, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the ambient noise of the city below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left me a nice comment here or on Tumblr ([anogete](https://anogete.tumblr.com)). I appreciate all of the encouragement and love and feedback. You'll are some of the best that fandom has to offer, for real.
> 
> A massive thank you to [chocolategate](https://chocolategate.tumblr.com) and [bulmavegotaku](http://bulmavegotaku.tumblr.com) for their super awesome beta skills. A huge thank you to [fasole-dulce](https://fasole-dulce.tumblr.com) for her proofreading and encouragement. And more thank yous to those gals from Tumblr who offered to read the fic and give feedback so I could come to terms with posting this little problem child. Much love, [romanoffsbite](http://romanoffsbite.tumblr.com), [tolovewhatismortal](https://tolovewhatismortal.tumblr.com), [thebutterscotchslut](http://thebutterscotchslut.tumblr.com), [aqueous spark](http://aqueousspark.tumblr.com), [zephrbabe](http://zephrbabe.tumblr.com), [theeone007](https://theeone007.tumblr.com), and [nefariousinkblot](http://nefariousinkblot.tumblr.com).
> 
> Finally, the lyrics at the beginning of this chapter are from a song called Alabama by a wonderful band called Night Moves. I came across it months ago while sitting in Starbucks working on another fic. I actually stopped writing to listen to the music over the store's sound system because it screamed Bucky to me. However, the feel of the song didn't fit with the fic I was writing the time. I stuck it in my back pocket and found a home for it here. You should go listen because it really is lovely. It can be found on [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2h5izvGmI7Y) if you're so inclined.


	4. Chapter 4

> _“You got a heart so big it could crush this town. And I can't hold out forever. Even walls fall down.” - Tom Petty (Walls)_

The next day she made a pot of coffee just before she expected Bucky and Sam to arrive. Sam got there first and poked his head into the kitchen.

“Do I smell the bitter elixir of life?” he asked.

“It's only bitter if you're a real man and drink it black like god and Thor intended,” she replied, holding the full pot out to him. He pulled a mug off the shelf and let her fill it.

“So, Bucky, huh?” he said.

Darcy winced. “Look, I feel like a piece of shit for listening without his permission. The first time… It was a mistake. I mean, well, I didn't actually realize what I walked into.”

Sam gave her a look that said he wasn't buying her lame excuse.

“Look, I know I should have left. I know I fucked up. I just froze and… and he was talking and I was curious.”

“Curious doesn't mean you can listen in on a private conversation.”

“In a public place,” she amended.

“Darcy, you know what you did. No excuses.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I know. It was messed up. And I came back twice more and that was even more fucked up. You're not telling me anything I don't already know. I just… I wanted to help him.”

Sam raised his brows. “You were rubber necking to satisfy your curiosity.”

Darcy dropped her gaze to the floor, feeling more than a little ashamed and guilty. “Yeah.”

“You're lucky he likes you.”

She glanced up at Sam. “What?”

“He likes you.”

“And you know this how?” she asked Sam.

He shrugged. “It's pretty obvious. I mean, he's talking to you. He's private and letting you listen is… Well, that's a big deal. Bigger than you realize. Don't take it lightly, Darcy. You need to understand that.”

“I'm not taking it lightly. I… I know it's hard for him. I mean, I don't understand it all, but I know he's giving me a lot of slack and a lot of trust.”

“Has he been talking to you?” he asked.

“We talked yesterday, but it's not like we're best friends or anything.”

Darcy poured herself a cup of coffee. Sam watched her while he said, “What did you talk about?”

“None of your biz,” she told him. “See, I'm learning how to be trustworthy and shit.”

Sam held up his free hand, palm out, and chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I've just… never seen him willingly talk to someone other than me or Steve since he got here.”

“Getting tired of you and that punk,” Bucky replied from the doorway of the kitchen.

Sam turned to look at Bucky. Darcy leaned around Sam’s tall body and smiled at the former assassin. She hadn't heard from him since they had parted ways on the quinjet’s landing pad the prior morning. She had been disappointed he hadn't taken her up on the offer of going to the record store, but it was hard to feel anything but warmth toward him when him when he was standing in front of her.

“Hi, Bucky,” she said.

“Hi, doll,” he replied. The term of endearment rolled off his tongue like it was nothing at all, but it made her weak in the knees.

Sam turned his back on Bucky to look at Darcy, his eyebrows raised in question. She smiled and shrugged. Who knew how she got on a pet name basis with Bucky Barnes, but she'd sure as shit take what she could get.

“Are we doing this?” Bucky asked Sam's back.

Sam turned around and said, “Yep, kitchen is a little too cozy for my tastes though.”

Bucky stepped aside to let Sam walk through the doorway. Darcy had already pulled out a mug for Bucky and was filling it with coffee. “Black, right?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, taking the mug she offered. “Thank you.”

“Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the door.

Bucky nodded and stepped aside to let her go first. She smiled at him when she walked past. He didn’t smile back, but she couldn’t blame him. He was about to spill his very private baggage to a couple people whom he probably didn’t know very well. She, at least, didn’t know him very well. Perhaps Sam had become a good friend since the Winter Soldier days.

Sam was sitting in his usual chair. Bucky didn’t sit until Darcy had settled onto the far end of the couch. He eventually sat down on the opposite end, resting his coffee mug on the cushioned arm.

“You still okay with Darcy joining us?” Sam asked Bucky.

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” Bucky replied, glancing over at her and then turning his eyes back to Sam.

Crossing one leg over the other knee, Sam asked, “Have you been listening to music on the record player?”

“Yes.”

“How does that make you feel?”

Bucky sighed and said, “Look, can I just… can we just stick to the words? The next one is furnace.”

Sam raised his brows. “Sure, that’s fine. Tell us what it brings to mind.”

Bucky cleared his throat and took a drink from his coffee mug before he said, “I was probably twelve, thirteen. My dad had called the landlord at least five times to report that the waterline to our building had sprung a leak. The water company had turned off service until it was repaired. The leak, it was on private property so they couldn’t do anything for it.”

“How many units were in the building?” Sam asked.

“Five. The rest of the apartments were old folks, sixty and up. We were the only family. My dad, he called and called. Left messages, went down to the landlord’s office and sat outside all day. The guy… he never showed. My mom had me lugging buckets of water up two flights so we had some for baths and cooking. I carried water for the woman who lived below us, too. She couldn’t carry it herself. It went on for three, four weeks, maybe.”

“That’s a long time.”

Bucky sighed and said, “Yeah. My mom was so worried over it, so stressed over having all these buckets all over the place, some of ‘em filled with rainwater that she had to boil. My dad missed a day of pay sitting outside the asshole’s office.”

Darcy had completely forgotten about her coffee. She pulled her gaze off Bucky’s profile, off the way his T-shirt stretched over his wide shoulders and the way his sweatpants hid his muscular legs. Taking a drink, she savored the fresh coffee. It was better than the stale stuff she’d been having the previous times she’d snuck inside.

“So where does the–” Sam shut his mouth abruptly. He’d been about to say furnace, but stopped himself out of deference to Bucky’s wishes.

“Furnace. The furnace is what I broke to get revenge. Like some short-sighted fucking kid,” Bucky said, laughing bitterly under his breath.

“You broke it?”

“I figured that would get his attention. I went down to the basement and smashed up the panel that controlled the fan. I used my dad’s claw hammer.”

Sam chuckled. “Did it get the landlord’s attention?”

“And everyone else’s. Like I said, it was short-sighted. No one noticed until a week later when the temperature started droppin’ as we got closer to Halloween. My dad went down to check the furnace and found the panel all smashed to shit. I couldn’t tell him it was me, couldn’t tell him I did it to screw that guy over for not returning our calls. I kept my punk mouth shut and we all piled on blankets because the building was freezing at night. We stayed cold for another two weeks before he finally came around and replaced the panel.”

“And the water line?”

“That took another two weeks and three more phone calls from my old man.”

“There wasn’t any recourse, a legal aid organization that looked out for the rights of tenants?” Sam asked.

“It was the thirties. We didn’t have much of that helpin’ hand shit back then,” Bucky replied. After a moment he said, “I should have never done it. It didn’t help anything, just pissed off the landlord and forced us and the other people in the building to turn the gas stoves on for what little heat they could give. It’s a wonder someone didn’t die from it. I was a stupid kid.”

“You were upset at an injustice.”

“I was a selfish little punk that wanted to get back at the landlord.”

Sam laughed softly. “Look, I think you’re being too hard on yourself, Barnes.”

Darcy agreed with Sam. She also thought Bucky Barnes was being too hard on himself. He’d been a kid and life in the thirties was probably hard enough without having to carry buckets of water in for your family and the neighbor. In her book, his landlord deserved a first class dick award.

Bucky looked over at Darcy, and she raised her brows. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself, too,” she agreed.

“I was stupid.” His voice was flat.

“And that dude was an asshole,” Darcy countered.

Bucky opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He turned his head to look at Sam, but Sam just shrugged and said, “She’s right.”

Frowning, Bucky said, “Should have known you two would gang up on me.”

“That’s not what this is, Barnes,” Sam replied. “We’re here to listen and give you perspective. You seem to think you’re a bad person.”

“I am.” Again, his voice was flat, unequivocal.

Sam slid his gaze up to meet hers, and Darcy said, “Bull. Shit.”

Bucky jerked his head up to look at her. “What?”

“Look, I don’t know you very well, but you shared your muffins _and_ your coffee with me yesterday morning. It was balls early and you let me drink half the damn cup. Trust me; you’re a good guy.” She shifted in her seat, turning her body toward him and pulling a leg up onto the couch cushion. “Do you think Sam is a good guy?”

Bucky furrowed his brows. “Uh, maybe?”

Sam snorted.

“Yes,” Bucky finally answered. “Of course I do.”

Darcy nodded. “Okay, next question. Let’s say you and I are playing pool.”

“Billiards?” Bucky asked. He looked like he was barely keeping up with her.

“Yeah, billiards, pool, whatever. So, we’re playing against each other, and you can tell that I’m, like, pretty bad at it. Like, I might be a little drunk and it’s making me look worse than I really am, but even on a good day when I’m sober I still wouldn’t be qualifying to play in any competitions. And… let’s also assume that you’re pretty good at pool.”

“Okay…”

“So, what do you do? Do you show off your skills and wipe the floor with me? Or… maybe, do you hold back a little and make me feel like I’m not such a shitty pool player. I’m not saying let me win, but just… temper your awesomeness because you feel bad for me.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question.”

“And we’re talking about you, right? I’m competing against you.”

“Yep, me.”

“I’d let you win. I definitely wouldn’t try to show you up,” Bucky said.

Darcy smiled and looked over a Sam. “See, Sam? He’s nicer than you.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam said, “That’s because he has a crush on you.”

“What?” Bucky asked, looking between the two of them.

“Sam and Clint decided that they were going to trounce Jane and I in a game of pool after I’d had three very heavy-handed martinis. So, if you think Sam’s a good guy, then you’ve got to be a great guy since you’d be nicer to me than him.”

“I… what?” Bucky furrowed his brows again.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t pull punches, Darcy. Maybe Barnes is distracted by your feminine wiles, but I was in it to win it.”

“He’s not distracted by my feminine wiles. He’s _nice_ ,” she told Sam, glancing over at Bucky. “Right?” Darcy asked him.

Bucky turned to Sam and said, “Don’t you know you always let the girl win?”

“Maybe if you were born in nineteen… whatever. When were you born?” Sam asked.

“Nineteen seventeen.”

“So, were all you guys so nice in nineteen seventeen?” Darcy asked.

“Define nice.”

She shrugged. “Like you.”

“I wasn’t especially nice.”

Darcy smiled at him. “I bet you were.”

“Stop flirting with him, Darcy,” Sam told her. “He’s an old man, and he can’t take it.”

Bucky pushed a sharp breath of air out his nose and shook his head, refusing to look at anything but the floor in front of him. Darcy could sense his discomfort when Sam teased him about her. She didn’t know how to make things better, though.

Looking up at Sam, she raised her brows. He smiled at her and said, “Well, Barnes. I don’t have all day to sit here and listen to you tell us how big of an asshole you are. See you Tuesday at one?”

Bucky nodded before saying, “Tuesday at one.”

“Darcy?” Sam asked.

“What?”

“He’s asking if you’ll be here,” Bucky told her.

“Oh,” she smiled at Bucky when he finally looked her in the eyes again. “Of course I’ll be here.”

Sam pushed himself out of his chair and gave them both a nod before leaving.

Darcy and Bucky sat in silence for a long moment. They were on the same couch, but he felt miles away, lost in his own thoughts. She took a drink from her nearly forgotten mug of coffee. Bucky did the same before glancing over at her.

“You’re very hard on yourself,” Darcy told him.

“You’re very easy on me.” He took another drink and looked over his shoulder at the bar. She wondered if he was remembering the night they’d sat there together and shared a milkshake.

Darcy cleared her throat. “So, when are you going to check out that record store with me?”

He shook his head and pressed his lips tightly together. “I, uh, I don’t think I should leave. I mean, I’ve still got this… shit inside my head and…” She could see his shoulders slump just a little, like he was trying to fold in on himself, disappear. It hurt her heart. “And I… I just… it’s hard for me to be around crowds, people.”

In a way, she understood. She knew some people liked to lose themselves in a crowd or a party when they were hurting. It helped them forget. She was like that sometimes. Distraction from your problems worked wonders occasionally. Other times, she preferred to pull into herself. It was like having your insides exposed to the world and too many people around could batter you when you felt so raw. Bucky’s situation was extreme, but she figured it was basically the same thing.

When she didn’t immediately respond, he said, “I’m sorry,” in a breathy whisper.

Darcy shook her head and gave him what she hoped was a kind, understanding smile. “It’s okay. I understand. Or, maybe I don’t understand completely, but I know where you’re coming from. I definitely don’t blame you for wanting to keep yourself safe.”

“Steve and Sam think I’m being over cautious.”

“Maybe,” she replied. “But if that’s what makes you feel safe right now, then I don’t see what’s wrong with it.”

He took a drink, and then he pulled in a deep breath, enough to expand his chest and lift his shoulders. Darcy watched him as he slowly exhaled through parted lips. She wanted to slide over and hug him, but he probably wouldn’t enjoy that. He seemed very conscious of his personal space, and she didn’t want to enter it without his permission. The physical closeness he’d been comfortable with the previous morning was unexpected. Darcy was beginning to wonder if it wasn’t so much that he was averse to closeness, but that he wanted to make the choice himself. It would make sense after all he’d been through. So, she stayed on her side of the couch and contented herself by finishing off the mug of coffee.

After over a minute of silence, she said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why weren’t you upset with me for listening in on your conversations with Sam?”

His brows drew together for a moment as he thought of how to answer. A few seconds passed before he said, “I didn’t think you were doing it to hurt me. You… seemed like a nice person. You _are_ a nice person.”

“I seemed like?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I didn’t think you knew I existed until we shared that malt.”

“I’ve seen you around,” Bucky said softly. “You’re always helpin’ people, smilin’ at people. You seemed kind, and I don’t know many kind people.”

She smiled at him. “You don’t know many people, period.”

One corner of Bucky’s mouth lifted in a small grin. “That’s true. But… there was just something about you that made me… I felt like I could trust you.”

“That’s, uh, wow.... Flattering, maybe? I’m blushing. And I'm confused because I was doing an untrustworthy thing by sneaking in there and listening to you.” His praise made heat bloom in her chest, but guilt was hot on its heels.

“I hoped you'd come back, but I was… I didn't know how to ask you to. So, I just… hoped. Don't feel bad about it, doll, really. You're forgiven.”

Darcy frowned. “I don't think it's that easy.”

He shook his head and said, “In this case, it is. I should go. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“I don’t mind,” she told him.

Bucky stood and took his coffee mug into the kitchen. She heard him rinse it out in the sink before he returned to the lounge. “Thank you for listening.”

Darcy lifted a hand in the air, waving his comment away. “Anytime.”

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\///\\\\\

Darcy had two records tucked under her arm. They were still in the yellow plastic bag they’d given her at the record store in Chelsea. She stood next to Bucky's door and tried to keep her arm clamped down on them while she pressed the receipt to the wall. She wasn't sure what to say, so the pen she had dug out of her purse was poised over the back of the receipt.

Darcy nearly tossed everything into the air when the door opened. Bucky was standing in the entrance, one hand on the edge of the frame.

“Hi,” Darcy said.

“What are you doing?”

She gave him a sheepish smile. “Uh, well. I was going to leave this in front of your door. You caught me.”

“Yeah, I heard you out here.”

“Damn your super soldier hearing. How did you know it was me?”

He inhaled through his nose. “Your shampoo.”

“Hmm, you'd think that would be creepy, but it's somehow not.”

Bucky gave her that half smile that couldn't quite lift up into a real one. “That's good. I don't want to be creepy.”

He was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a white shirt. His hair was down, the tips of it just brushing his shoulders. His hand came up and tucked it behind his right ear. Darcy dropped the pen and receipt back in her purse and said, “You're not. Creepy, that is. I, uh, got you some music.” She pulled the records out from their spot between her arm and body, offering them to him.

Bucky hesitated as he looked from the yellow bag to Darcy's face. “Doll, you shouldn't keep buyin’ me things.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn't buy the record player. Tony did. And everything else has been minimal. You deserve it.”

“No, I don't. And since when does Tony Stark agree to buy me anything?”

“He thought he was buying it for me.”

Bucky’s widened slightly. “Are you… Is he… I mean, are you two…”

“Wait. Woah. Are you asking if Tony and I have a thing?”

He nodded.

“Uh, fuck no.” She blanched. “Definitely not. He's in L, O, V, E with Pepper.”

“He bought you a record player.”

She shrugged. “So? He bought Jane some fancy computer gizmo. That's what dudes who grow up rich do. They buy people shit because they think that's how you get friends. It’s messed up, but I'm not gonna complain.”

He seemed satisfied with her answer because he said, “You shouldn't have bought me more records.”

She lifted the bag again and waved it at him. “If you don't take it, it'll go to waste. They don't take returns, and I don't have a turntable.”

Bucky hesitantly reached out and took the bag from her. “Thank you.”

“You mentioned Count Basie, so the guy at the store pointed me toward a compilation of his stuff from the early forties. Record shop dude also suggested a guy named Chris Potter when I asked about contemporary jazz. He's a sax player. So I got one of his albums. Maybe you'll like it. So, yeah… I hope you have a good evening.” Darcy smiled at him and gave a goofy wave before turning to retreat to the elevator.

“Darcy.”

She turned back to look at him.

“Do you want to come in? Do you want to listen with me? I… You don't have to if–”

“I'd love to,” she told him, taking the three strides back to his door. He opened it wider and stepped back to let her in.

“Steve is gone. Mission in Venezuela.”

The apartment was dark, the shades closed and only a dim lamp on an end table illuminating the living area. “It's a little gloomy in here,” she told him.

He closed the door and said, “I'm sorry. It makes me feel…” When she turned around to look at him, he shook his head and tried again. “It makes me feel safe.”

“Okay,” she said, stepping off the tile of the foyer and onto the plush cream carpet.

“Okay? That's it?”

She raised her brows. “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Steve and Sam tell me I need to make an effort.” His arms were hanging at his sides, the records clutched in one hand.

“I'm not here to be your therapist. I can roll with your preferences instead of pushing.”

“What if I want you to keep pushing me?”

She tilted her head in question. “Keep?”

“You've been pushing me to do new things.”

Darcy smiled. “But I'm not making you do anything.”

“I wouldn't have found music again if it weren't for you. I wouldn't have had a malt for the first time in decades or watched the sunrise from the landing pad. Not without you.”

“Sorry?”

“No. I… need the push.”

“You want me to keep pushing? Okay.” She walked over to the tall windows on the far side of the living room and grabbed the curtains of the first window, pulling them apart with a snick. She repeated the motion with the other two windows. It was late–almost seven with twilight descending–but the natural lighting transformed the room. “Is this okay?” she asked, turning to face him.

He looked from her to the view out the window behind her before saying, “Yeah. It's okay. Let me go get the record player.”

He disappeared down the hall and came back with the gorgeous case held reverently in his hands, one flesh and the other vibranium. She watched him plug it in and hook it up to the speakers before he pulled the Count Basie record out of the bag.

Darcy walked over to stand beside him as he carefully handled the record, placing it on the spindle and flipping the power on. Like a pro, he queued up the first song and the jaunty notes from a piano tumbled out of the speakers faster than she could keep up with them.

Bucky looked over at her standing a few feet away. “You look like you don't like it,” he said.

“Oh, I don't dislike it. It's… it's very fast, bouncy. I think I might prefer my jazz slower. But it's good. The important thing is whether you like it.”

He smiled at her, the first real one she'd ever seen from him. The corners of his blue eyes crinkled up in amusement. Darcy watched as he turned his gaze down to the record sleeve. Carefully, he used the lever to pick up the needle and lower it into the silence between two tracks. Within a moment, the sound of someone gently playing the piano flowed out of his speakers. It was more her speed–a little lazy, a little sweet, a little melancholy.

“How's this?” he asked, looking at her expectantly.

“Perfect.”

“It's called If I Could Be With You.” Bucky dropped his gaze to the spinning record before stepping back. “Did you have dinner yet?”

“No. Why?” Her heart felt like it was in her throat as she thought about whether he might ask her on a date.

He didn't, but he did shock her by gesturing over to the kitchen counter and saying, “I was making turkey sandwiches for dinner. Do you want one?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I do.” She followed him across the room and into the open kitchen.

“I don’t know how to cook much. My mom… she did most of the cooking before I went into the army, and then they fed us. And then…”

“And then things went wonky,” she said, helping him finish that uncomfortable thought.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“If you want to learn how to cook, I can teach you. I’m pretty good, if I do say so myself.” Darcy opened the fridge. “In fact, do you want me to make something for us? What do you have?”

“No, you’ve done too much for me already,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her as she took in the lack of food.

Darcy squatted down and looked over the bottom two shelves, only finding some condiments and lunch meat. “Bucky, what happened to all your food?”

“I, uh… like I said, I’m a bad cook. Steve is out on a mission, and…” He shrugged. “I can always eat in the cafeteria.”

“But you don’t eat in the cafeteria. And you told me earlier that you don’t leave the building.”

He put a sandwich on a plate before assembling another with spicy brown mustard, turkey, and provolone cheese. “I’m fine. Really.”

She closed the fridge and used her hands on the counter next to it to lift herself up so she could sit on the marble slab running the length of the kitchen. The counter was deep, and even with the cabinets behind her, it was still a comfortable spot. She watched the muscles in his back move beneath his T-shirt as he finished making the second sandwich.

“Do you want a Coke?” he asked, turning around. His eyes swept down her body, and then he quickly dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Sure.”

Bucky sat the two plates next to her on the counter and pulled two cans out of the fridge. He sat them next to the plates before walking back into the living room and turning the music off. Darcy waited as he switched the records and started the one she’d bought on a lark, thinking he might appreciate something more modern. From the beginning, it wasn’t nearly as punchy as Count Basie had been. Jazz had never been her thing, but she found an appreciation of it by watching him listen. He paused and let a few seconds of the first song play before he nodded and returned to the kitchen.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I like it,” he replied, scooting up to sit beside her, the food between them.

“Are you just saying that to be nice?”

He glanced sideways at her and gave her a soft smile that was barely there. “No. It’s good. Haven’t listened to much since… since I got back. Just stuff I hear on the radio.”

Darcy opened her can of Coke and took a drink. “Radio is terrible for the most part.”

“Yeah, it’s not really my thing. Sometimes it’s too… busy.”

She picked up her sandwich and said, “Jazz can sound very busy.”

Bucky’s eyes watched as she took her first bite. His intense gaze made her nervous. “Even that kind of jazz makes sense to me, calms me. The radio just sounds like noise sometimes.” He paused and picked his sandwich up. “I wonder if what happened, if it hadn’t happened, if I’d be different. The person I am now… that’s not who I was back then.”

“Back in the forties?”

He nodded and inhaled half his sandwich in two bites. “Yeah, I think that guy… that guy would have liked all this music they play. Me?” He laughed softly, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “I don’t know. It just feels like too much sometimes. I need the silence… the... “ Bucky sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it. But it’s like a lot of music is filled with noise.”

Darcy nodded. “I understand. You need the quiet between the notes.” She took a bite of her sandwich. It was good, surprisingly so, considering who made it. “You know, back in the sixties there was this guy named Phil Spector who did this thing called Wall of Sound with the songs he produced. It was his little invention or technique or whatever. It involved layering sounds and doubling or tripling the recorded tracks of the instruments. I guess he wanted to make it like an orchestra and make it all full and… well, like a wall of sound.”

“And this was in the sixties?” Bucky asked, finishing his sandwich.

“Yep. It was really popular then. I think he had a pretty big influence on music. What you said, it reminded me of that. You don’t like that sound. You like the space between the notes.”

“Yes,” he agreed, opening his Coke and taking a long drink. “You know a lot about music,” he said after he’d swallowed.

Darcy shrugged. “Not really. I know what I like. I mean, jazz, I don’t know much about that.”

“You found some of my favorites. The Charlie Parker record… I’ve listened to it so many times since you gave it to me. There are songs on there I’d never heard, stuff he’d written and recorded after I’d gone off to war.” Bucky slipped off the counter and walked over to the open loaf of bread and tray of deli-sliced turkey on the island. “Do you want another sandwich?”

“Sure,” she said, finishing up the last of hers. It wasn’t that she was hungry; she just didn’t want to leave. “Are you sure you don’t want to venture out into the world with me? I’m a good guide. We can shop for records and groceries.”

His shoulders tensed and his head lowered as he assembled the sandwiches. “No. I don’t feel comfortable being out there. I’m dangerous.”

“You don’t seem dangerous.”

“I am. I have all this junk in my head. I don’t want to kill anyone.”

He turned around and walked over to put a sandwich on her plate and two on his. She watched as he lifted himself up on the counter beside her again.

“Thank you for having dinner with me,” he mumbled, looking at the floor before sliding his gaze to the sandwiches on his plate.

Darcy smiled and said, “Thank you for feeding me.”

The music was soft and the saxophone was somewhat mournful in the way it weaved in and out of the percussion and piano. She picked up her second sandwich and ate it while they sat together and listened to the song. Bucky was either hungry or a fast eater because he’d polished off both his before she’d taken her final bite.

Darcy finished her Coke and declined a second that he offered. She slipped off the counter, feeling like she shouldn’t monopolize his time. Bucky followed, his eyes on her and then darting away to look at the wall or the floor or the counter or anywhere but her. He just seemed so shy sometimes and she wasn’t sure why.

“I should go. Thank you for dinner.”

He nodded and walked her over to the door. “Thank you for the records. I wish I could repay you.”

“No way. They aren’t that expensive.”

Bucky shook his head as he opened the door. “No, repay you with something nice. I just… I don’t know what I could do for you. Or give you.”

“You gave me dinner. That’s repayment.”

“I gave you a sandwich,” he told her.

“Two.”

That made him smile. “Two,” he agreed. “Next time I’ll make sure I have chips.”

“You better,” she said with a grin. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight, doll,” he murmured. When she turned around to give him a wave, she was met with his shut door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading, I'd love to hear what you think. Comments/feedback are appreciated and treasured. :-)
> 
> The Count Basie song mentioned in this chapter can be heard [here on YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=492EX74qlxA).
> 
> Ya'll are super great, and I want to squish you.


	5. Chapter 5

> _“Dance all night 'cause people, they don't wanna be lonely. Never wanna be lonely. They don't wanna be an only one. You had a thing no one could ever be sure of. Never ever had a pure love and never no cure from.” - The Black Keys (Weight of Love)_

“Nine… nine is about Steve. About feeling like shit because I failed him,” Bucky said softly. His eyes were trained on an abstract painting across the room. It looked like a flower, but it could be anything. Darcy didn’t know much about art. For all she knew, it had been painted by a four-year-old. It was actually probably painted by an artist who sold it to an art broker who sold it to Pepper Potts for the sole purpose to making the lounge look more sophisticated.

She moved her gaze back to Bucky. He was more interesting to look at anyway.

“And how do you think you failed Steve?”

Bucky gave a wry smile. “His mom died when he was eighteen. She was a nurse and got tuberculosis. I was still living with my parents, trying to figure out what I was gonna do with my life. Saving the money I mentioned before, thinking I was gonna drive across the country or something. Steve’s mom dying… that hit hard. I mean, she was like my second mom, and Steve had been through enough already. It ain’t easy being a scrawny kid without a dad, you know.”

Darcy shifted on the couch, causing Bucky to glance over at her. His eyes looked so sad and so far away. She hadn’t really considered before how much effort it must take and how much energy he drained when he dredged up those moments from his past that seemed to make him feel ashamed.

He looked back at the painting and said, “Her funeral was on a Thursday morning. Nine o’clock on the dot. The church had another funeral scheduled for eleven. Catholic funerals are… long. I offered to take the punk, but he wanted to go on his own. I… He was like my little brother. I’d already talked to my parents. They were gonna to take him in. I mean… he was an adult by then. It wasn’t like he was gonna get thrown in an orphanage, but… I didn’t want him to have to go it alone. You know?”

Sam nodded. “You were a good friend to him. You _are_ a good friend.”

Bucky waved the well-intentioned words away like they were silly and untrue. “I got drunk the night before. Bought a bottle of cheap whiskey, sat in an alley two blocks down from Steve’s apartment, and got blackout drunk. He didn’t. He... he said he was gonna clean out her bedroom and pack. The rent was paid up for the next two weeks, but after that he didn’t have the money to keep the place. I… I wanted to help, but he wouldn’t take it. So, I sat out there and got drunk and thought about Sarah and Steve and… and how fucked up it all was.”

Darcy wanted to scoot over and put an arm around his slumped shoulders.

“I don’t remember gettin’ home, but I woke up in my own bed with a splitting headache. The house was quiet, not a creak of the floorboards. For a minute I didn’t remember anything about why I’d been drinkin’, and then it all came back when I looked up at the clock.”

“Did you miss the funeral?” Sam prompted when Bucky stopped talking.

“It was fifteen after nine. I jumped up so fast I almost passed out. My mom had left my suit hanging on the closet door, so all I had to do was pull it on and brush back my hair. I got to the church at ten ‘til ten. The service was almost over. My mom was sittin’ in the back and gave me a dirty look when I walked in late. Said she’d woken me up at eight and then again at eight-thirty before she left. I… don’t remember either time.”

“And Steve?”

“Steve was up front in the first pew. Alone. I should have been there with him… for him. It wasn’t like I could just walk up the aisle and sit down next to him, not when I was so late. I’d promised to do a reading, but…” He shook his head in disgust. “But that part of the service was over, and I’d missed it. Fifteen after ten, they wrapped it up, and I went to the front to find Steve. He was shakin’ hands and acting like everything was gonna to be okay, like his mom hadn't died. Like he hadn’t just sat through the funeral alone because I was the asshole who had a hangover and missed it.”

“Was he upset with you?” Sam asked, crossing one leg over the other.

Bucky snorted and shook his head. “You know he wasn’t. He clapped me on the fuckin’ back and asked if I was okay. I told him I was a piece of shit for not being there on time, and he just shrugged it off like it was nothing at all. All those old ladies in the neighborhood who knew his mom were swarming him, offerin’ food if he needed it, so I left. Caught up with him later and acted like nothing happened, like it was all normal. Because that’s how Steve is. He just acts like it’s all fine. Like nothing bothers him, like I can’t let him down even though I know I do.”

“You know you do what?” Sam asked.

“Let him down.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t think that’s true, Barnes.”

“It’s been true every day of my damn life since his mom’s funeral. Especially now with HYDRA and everything I’ve done.”

“Everything you were forced to do,” Sam corrected.

“Everything I’ve done,” Bucky repeated, his voiced firm.

“You were forced to do,” Darcy said, finally speaking up.

Bucky looked over at her with sad eyes full of regret. “Doll, you don’t even know the half of it. Don’t take up for me.”

“Why don’t you tell her?” Sam asked. He stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of his slacks. “I’ll leave you two alone and maybe you can tell her the half of it or the whole of it.”

When Bucky didn’t respond beyond a silent stare, Sam nodded at them both and made his way to the door. Once they were alone Bucky said, “He's trying to get me alone with you.”

Darcy smiled. “Seems that way. He doesn't know we had dinner together in your place last night?”

“No. I'd like to keep that between us for now.”

“Oh, okay. So, I won't do that interview about how good Bucky Barnes’ turkey sandwiches taste, then.”

He looked over at her, wide-eyed for a moment before he realized that she was joking. “No one wants to know about me other than Sam and Steve.”

“I want to know about you.”

“Yeah, and I'm not sure why.”

Darcy shrugged. “You seem interesting, and I like you.” She censored those thoughts that came after, the ones that said she also listened because she wanted to know how to make him feel better, how to help. And that little niggling thought that admitted she had a crush on him. “Do you want to tell me the half of it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. I’m not going to force to you talk.” After a moment of silence, she said, “Is Steve still gone?”

Bucky's nodded. “Yeah.”

She knew just how she wanted to help the man seated next to her on the couch, but she wasn't sure how receptive he would be. Right now he seemed like he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. “Hey, I've got a thing I need to do. I'll see you around? Yeah?”

Darcy was a little shocked when she saw a flicker of disappointment on his face before he schooled it back to that impassive stare.

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed.

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Darcy had an old canvas tote bag with a painting of Pemberley on it. The bag was slung over her shoulder. Her aunt had given it to her as a present in high school during a time in which Darcy was exclusively reading Jane Austen and wishing she lived in England in the early eighteen hundreds so she could tell boys off like Elizabeth Bennett. Those boys would eventually fall in love with her, of course. It was a phase that had passed by the time she graduated and went off to college, but she’d kept the tote.

The bag was filled with the ingredients to make chicken marsala. It was something she’d made for her family before. In fact, her mom had raved about how good Darcy’s chicken marsala was. It was easy enough to throw together, but she was worried he might not like it. What if he didn’t eat chicken? What if he didn’t like mushrooms? What if he thought she was silly for spending so much of her time trying to engage him?

Darcy knocked on his door and shifted from one foot to another, waiting for him to answer. When he did, his brows were raised in question. “What are you doin’?” he asked, standing in the doorway. She could feel his eyes sweep over her, taking in the stupid sleeveless, A-line, blue dress she’d put on before coming over. The hem of it fell just above her knees. Instead of looking desperate with a pair of heels, she’d opted for a pair of white ballet flats.

“Hi,” she said. “Can I make you dinner?”

He was in a pair of grey sweatpants with a white tee that stretched tight over his chest, shoulders, and biceps. “Uh, what?” he asked, holding onto the edge of the door.

“Dinner,” Darcy repeated, patting the bag hanging off her right shoulder. “I have everything I need but a pot, a pan, and someone to share it with.”

“Me?” He sounded so surprised that she wanted to cook for him.

Darcy smiled. “Of course. Who else?”

He shook his head. “You really need to stop doin’ things for me.”

“Hey, I’m nice. Remember? Doing things for you is in my nature.” She tilted her head and said, “So, are you gonna let me in or do you hate chicken marsala?”

His eyes closed and his lips curled up into a smile. When he opened them again, he actually looked happy. “I _love_ chicken marsala. Haven’t had it in forever.”

“You’re in luck, then. My mom says I make the best chicken marsala. Are you gonna let me in now?”

He stepped aside so she could come into the apartment he shared with Steve. The place was dark, just like it had been the day before, but he had opened the curtains on one of the tall windows across the room. The light over the sink in the kitchen was on, making the room look intimate. Like they were on a date or something. It was messing with her head as she unpacked the tote bag onto the counter by the stove.

Maybe it was fucking with his head, too, because he flipped the switch to turn on the overhead recessed lights scattered across the kitchen ceiling. Darcy blinked at the sudden brightness and continued to empty the bag.

“Do you have a wine opener?”

Bucky walked past her and dug into the back of a drawer by the sink, pulling out what she’d asked for. The opener looked like it was brand new and had never been used. She suspected it had come with the apartment, that some assistant Pepper Potts had hired was told to equip the kitchen with everything someone would need. Little did that person know, Captain America didn’t drink, and even if he did, he wouldn’t get drunk.

“Here,” she said, handing him a bottle of pinot noir. “Open this.”

Bucky ripped away the foil on the top and pulled the cork out with ease. “You look… nice,” he said, setting the bottle down on the counter beside her.

Darcy glanced down at her dress that she’d picked out specifically for coming over to his apartment. Not that she thought she had a chance, but she wanted to make a good impression. She didn’t want him thinking she was just a weirdo in jeans and old graphic tees who hid in the kitchen and spied on him. “This old thing?” she asked, waving a hand in the air to dismiss his compliment.

Bucky smiled at her and opened a cabinet by her head, pulling out a wine glass.

“You better pull out another one,” she told him. “I’m not drinking alone.”

He reached up and did as she’d asked, putting both glasses next to the bottle. “Takes more than a bottle to get me drunk,” he told her, a grin playing on his lips.

“Wasn’t trying to get you drunk, just trying to share a bottle of wine I stole from Tony’s private stores. It probably cost like two hundred bucks. Have you ever had two hundred dollar wine?”

“Never,” he said. “I guess I better try it, then.”

“For, like, science. Maybe it tastes like money,” Darcy said.

He chuckled and poured a generous amount in each of the two glasses. They each took a sip, locking gazes over the rims of their glasses. Darcy wanted to melt in the face of all that intensity he threw off. His hair was pulled back in a knot at the base of his skull. A couple strands that couldn’t be contained were tucked behind his ears. There was at least three or four days of stubble on his face that made him look rough and a little more dangerous than when he shaved. She loved it, though. He looked like the hottest guy she’d ever seen up close, and all that attention was focused on her.

“Tastes like wine,” he whispered, his lips still a little wet from the dark red wine.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Definitely wine. Doesn’t taste like money at all.”

He smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “How can I help you?”

“Find me a frying pan and a large pot.”

He did as he was told. It was obvious he didn’t cook much at all because he had to look a couple different places before he located the pot and pan. In the meantime, she pulled open the drawer he’d found the wine opener in and found a pair of tongs and a spatula.

After he’d sat the cookware on the stove, she said, “Do you think that fancy cybernetic arm can flatten these chicken cutlets a little?”

“Uh, maybe.”

She ripped a couple sheets of wax paper off the roll she’d brought over and laid one on the counter before placing the four cutlets onto it and covering them with the second piece. “Quarter of an inch thick,” she told Bucky before moving on to wash her hands and fill the pot with salted water for the noodles.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said softly. She watched him out of the corner of her eye while the water from the faucet ran into the pot. He carefully pressed down on the cutlets with the palm of his vibranium hand until they were thinner. While she settled the pot of water back onto the burner, she watched him lean over until his eyes were level with the counter, checking the thickness. So conscientious and so adorable.

Darcy poured a little oil in the pan and turned the heat on before saying, “Can I have a bowl?”

He pulled a blue plastic bowl out of the cabinet by the fridge and brought it over. She dumped a cup of flour in it and asked him to bring the chicken. He carried over the chicken wrapped in wax paper and sat it next to the bowl so she could dredge it and fry it.

“Hey, while I’m doing this, can you cut up those mushrooms? They’re already washed.”

“Sure,” Bucky agreed.

While Darcy covered the chicken in flour and dropped it into the hot oil, she kept half her attention on Bucky. He was holding each mushroom in his left hand and slicing them with a knife in his right hand. It looked like you didn't need a cutting board if you have a vibranium hand to cut against. The thick mushroom slices were being piled up on the counter. After he’d finished, she told him to chop up the parsley. He didn’t really chop it. He ripped it up. She couldn’t find it in her to correct him. It wasn’t like it would hurt the dish that much to have ripped up parsley.

Just before the chicken was done, she dropped the spaghetti into the boiling pot of water and told Bucky to open the bottle of Marsala wine sitting on the counter. He did as she'd asked, sliding the bottle over to her when she asked for a couple plates. He knew where the plates were and put those on the other side of the stove, watching her scoop up the chicken with the spatula and put them all on one of the plates.

She could feel his eyes on her as she threw the mushrooms, garlic, parsley, and Marsala wine into the pan to make the sauce. When she looked over at him, he was leaning against the counter, sipping on his wine and watching her.

“Almost done,” Darcy told him.

“What I said before wasn’t really true,” he said.

Darcy raised her brows. “What did you say before?”

“That you look nice.”

Her brows went up a little more. “I don’t look nice?”

“You look very pretty. That’s better than nice.”

She was not the type of girl who blushed easily, but his blue eyes and earnestness made her knees weak and her cheeks flush at the compliment. “Uh, thanks. You look pretty good yourself.”

He smiled warmly at her. “I’m in sweatpants.”

Darcy shrugged. “So? I like sweatpants.”

He chuckled and dropped his eyes like he was suddenly shy. It was endearing as fuck. She reached over and picked up her glass of wine, sipping on it as she waited for the sauce to reduce and the spaghetti to cook. It only took a few minutes.

“This is very kind of you. Nobody but Steve has cooked for me like this in years.”

“I love cooking for people, but only if I get to eat with them. So, if you ever want a home-cooked meal and a dinner companion, you know where to find me.”

“I, uh, don’t actually. I don’t know where to find you other than the labs upstairs.”

Darcy turned the burner off under the spaghetti and said, “My apartment? I thought you’d just look in the directory. It’s not secret like yours. Twenty-fourteen. You want my phone number, too?”

He shook his head and closed in on himself. She noticed he would do that now and then, reach out and open himself up and then pull back into his shell. It didn’t bother her all that much after knowing some of what he’d gone through. She didn’t know the nitty gritty details, but maybe one day he’d trust her enough to tell them. She almost laughed out loud at her optimism that she’d hold his attention that long. Not that he was a flighty guy, but that he was way out of her league and much more interesting than a grad school dropout like her.

“Can you drain the spaghetti while I finish up the sauce?” she asked him.

He nodded and pulled a colander from a cabinet by the fridge. They worked side-by-side as he shook the last of the water from the spaghetti and dumped it back into the pot. She stirred the sauce that had thickened up enough to be served. Bucky held the pot out while she used the tongs to transfer a pile of noodles to the empty plate. She piled the chicken on top of it so she could add spaghetti to the second plate. Sitting the pot back down on the stove, Bucky watched as she put one chicken cutlet on the second plate and left the other three on the first.

He opened his mouth to protest, but she knew exactly what he was going to say. “Can it, Bucky,” she said. “I had a big lunch, and I don’t need two pieces of chicken. Plus, you said you love chicken marsala and haven’t had it since before the war. I think you deserve more.”

“I don’t deserve any of this,” he murmured softly, unable to meet her eyes.

“Of course you do,” Darcy told him, spooning the sauce and mushrooms liberally over the chicken and spaghetti. “Are you going to give us some dinner tunes?”

He glanced up and gave her a shy smile. A man like him shouldn’t be able to smile at a girl like that. It was too dangerous. She was sure she’d do pretty much anything for him if he asked. She watched his back as he walked around the island separating the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. It only took him a few long strides before he reached the record player and turned it on. The familiar sounds of the first record she’d bought him–the one they’d listened to over the malt–tumbled out of the speakers built into the walls of the apartment. She’d grown fond of Charlie Parker since she’d listened to him with Bucky. Maybe the music just reminded her of him and that’s why she’d been listening to it at night before falling asleep.

“I don't know how to thank you for this music.”

“I'm glad you like it.”

“Yeah. Very much,” he said.

Darcy took a sip of her wine and watched Bucky carry their plates out of the kitchen and just around the corner where there was a small dining table in a dimly-lit alcove by the furthest window. The streetlights were on now and all the buildings were lit up against the darkening sky. She carried her wine glass and his over to the table while he found silverware and napkins for them. It felt strange to have dinner with a man who remained standing until she sat. Maybe it was just all those ingrained manners from a bygone era.

He also wouldn’t eat until she’d taken a bite, even though he looked like he was starving and this was the first food he’d seen in days. Darcy cut off a small piece of chicken and scooped it up with some spaghetti twisted around her fork. “Mmm, it’s good,” she told him while chewing the first bite.

Bucky took that as permission to eat. She sat there sipping wine that was quickly going to her head and watched him devour his plate of food, licking those perfect lips and making little noises of pleasure she could barely hear over the sound of his fork against the plate.

After he’d finished, she ate half of her plate before pushing it away. She wasn’t full, but she wanted him to think she was. “I’m stuffed,” Darcy told him. “Like I said, big lunch. Do you want the rest of mine?”

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Are you sure?”

Pushing it across the table, she said, “Of course. Go for it.”

Bucky didn’t even transfer the food over to his plate, he just picked up her fork and knife and went to town, clearing the rest of her plate in a minute flat. After he’d finished, he sat back and gulped down half his glass of wine in one go, making her grin. “That was amazing,” he said. “The best food I’ve ever had.”

“Aww, you’re just trying to butter me up so I cook for you all the time.”

There was that damn shy smile again. “Maybe I am. But I’m not lying either. That was the best.”

“I’ll cook for you whenever you want me to.” Darcy held up a finger and added, “As long as I get to eat with you.”

“Always. Of course.”

“This Charlie Parker stuff is growing on me. You know I listened to him as I fell asleep last night?”

He drank the rest of his wine and sat the empty glass on the table. “I listen to him every night. I’ll listen to Count Basie in the morning. I like that other album you found, the one called _Gratitude_. It’s different than the jazz I’m used to, but it’s really good. I had it on before you got here.”

“You need more records.”

“No. Don’t go out and waste more of your time and money on me, doll.”

“Doll,” Darcy repeated.

He froze and looked up to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry,” Bucky said, “I didn’t… it just slips out sometimes. I… don’t mean to offend you.”

Darcy laughed softly and shook her head. “No, no, no. I’m not offended. I like it, actually. It’s sweet. I didn’t expect you to be so… sweet.”

“I’m not, really.”

“You are.”

“Then you don’t know me well enough.”

She frowned. “Or you don’t know yourself.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t.”

Darcy finished her glass of wine and sat it down, watching him stack her plate on top of his. “I’m enjoying getting to know you,” she told him. “It’s nice to have a friend other than all those crazy scientists who ignore me when they’re in the throes of discoveries.”

He lifted his gaze from the table to her face. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

“What did you think we are?”

Bucky shrugged. “Acquaintances. Two people who live in the same building.”

“Do you really think that, though?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him, at that stupid shit that he'd just spouted.

He smiled softly at her expression. “No, I don't.” Bucky picked up the plates and took them over to the sink. When he returned, he had the wine bottle in his hand. She watched him pour the remainder in their glasses, giving her a little more.

“Trying to get me drunk?” she asked, feeling the effects of the first glass.

“Isn't that what friends are supposed to do?”

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and laughed. “Sure, sure. Friends give you more wine even when they probably need it more.”

“An extra glass ain't gonna get me drunk.”

“What would it take?” she asked. “I know a guy.”

He sat down beside her. “You know a guy?”

She took a long drink from her glass and nodded. “Thor. He has this Asgardian booze. I'm not allowed to have any because apparently a thimble would get me black out drunk.” She leaned closer to Bucky. “And I don't need the mother of all hangovers. Tequila is enough to knock me on my ass.”

“That might do it,” he said, taking a drink from his own glass.

She wiggled her brows and said, “I'll ask him if I can get some of the good stuff for my new _friend_.”

Bucky chuckled softly.

They fell into a companionable silence as they finished their wine and listened to Charlie Parker and his saxophone. It was the best date she'd had in years, and it wasn't even a date. She wanted to lean over and kiss him, but knew he'd freak out if she did. He'd had too many choices taken away from him, and she wasn't about to touch him without his permission.

“Thank you for dinner, doll,” he murmured softly.

He moved his hand over as if to touch hers as it rested on the table, but stopped a fraction of an inch short. His fingers curled into his palm, and he laid his hand down next to hers, but not touching. It seemed like he wanted to touch though.

Slowly, giving him time to pull away, she lifted her hand and curled her fingers over the back of his. The skin of his right hand was warmer than she'd been anticipating. Maybe it was the serum that had changed his body chemistry and his metabolism. She wasn't a doctor, so she didn't know.

“I'm serious about dinner, you know. If you ever want someone to cook for you, I'm available.”

Bucky slipped his hand out from under hers and nodded, unable or unwilling to look her in the eye. Instead of making him uncomfortable, she stood up and moved toward the door. She felt him shadow her, felt him reach around her to pull the front door open.

“Night, Bucky,” she told him, standing in the hallway outside his door.

“Goodnight, doll.”

And just like that, he'd shut his door. She knew she shouldn't want more, but she did.


	6. Chapter 6

_“You've held your head up. You've fought the fight. You bear the scars. You've done your time. Listen to me, you've been lonely too long.” - The Civil Wars (Dust to Dust)_

Darcy had her forehead and nose pressed into the surface of the desk she’d commandeered in the corner of the lab. Working with scientists meant they didn’t think of the little things like giving her a workspace or making sure she showed up on time. They were too involved in their work to notice minor things like that. She’d learned quickly that you needed to take initiative if you didn’t want to be walked all over, so she’d taken over the desk. She’d put her toys and her pictures and her inspirational–sarcastic–quotes on and around it.

If anyone would have noticed it wasn’t really her desk, it would have been the man who owned the building, but Tony Stark appeared to be just as clueless as Jane or Bruce. Or, more likely, he just didn’t care.

“What’s your problem, Lewis?” Tony asked as he walked past her desk.

“Frustration with you nerds,” she told him, not lifting her head.

“Woah, woah, woah. Who are you lumping in with the nerds? Surely not me. I’m cool.”

“Jane had me run all over this city today looking for a book on quantum physics. Do you know where the book was?” This time she did lift her head to look at him.

Tony raised his brows. “Probably here, judging by your long-suffering expression.”

“Right in one, Tony,” she said with a sigh.

He sat down on the corner of her desk. “I'd never make you look for a book I already have.”

“Yeah, you'd just send me on a wild goose chase looking for the best Cuban coffee in the City.”

Tony's face was stern when he said, “That was a very important task. It couldn't be entrusted to just anyone. Those little coffees are tiny cups of heaven.”

“Agreed. And that's the only reason I didn't strangle you.”

He stood up. “You're so prickly today. You need a week of vacation.”

“To where? My apartment upstairs?”

“My house in Malibu is empty. Go there.”

She opened and shut her mouth twice before she managed to say, “You've got to be kidding.”

He lifted his brows. “Not kidding. A happy assistant is a good assistant. That's what Pepper always says.”

“I'm not your assistant.”

“Close enough. You found that Cuban coffee in Washington Heights. You microwave my lunch when I forget to eat. Consider use of my house as repayment.”

“But you're actually paying me,” she countered.

“Come on, Lewis. Work with me here. I'm trying to be nice. This is this what I get for being nice.”

“What do you get?”

“A debate. Shut up and take the house for a week.”

“Not that I'm complaining, but Malibu is forever away from here.”

“So take the house in the Hamptons for a week. It's empty and too stuffy for me.”

“Wait, you have beach houses on both coasts?” she asked.

Tony shrugged. “It pays to be a Stark. So, the Hamptons house?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What would I owe you?”

“Your first born,” he said, not skipping a beat.

Darcy smiled. “Done. Can I have it next week?”

“Knock yourself out,” he told her. “FRIDAY, have a set of keys to the house in the Hamptons delivered to Darcy Lewis with the address.”

“Certainly, Mr. Stark.”

“Just like that?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Just like that, kid,” Tony replied.

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“Benign is about my mother. She was always working, always busy. She made extra money bakin’ and cookin’ for the people in the neighborhood who could afford to pay her. She made these lemon meringue pies that were…” Bucky chuckled, his gaze unfocused and staring at the floor in front of him. “They were amazing. She sold them to the stores in the neighborhood so my dad didn’t have to work overtime to keep us in the row house they bought when I was fourteen.”

Darcy had turned herself to the side so she could watch the profile of his face from the other end of the couch as he told his story about the next word.

“I came home and she was sittin’ at the kitchen table, looking like she’d seen a ghost. My dad was still at work, and my sister was out with her friends. I’d just come home to change since I was taking a girl dancin’ that night.” Bucky cleared his throat and continued with, “I asked her what was wrong, but she wouldn’t say anything. I… I got a little annoyed with her, kinda pushy maybe. I knew something was wrong, and I just wanted her to spit it out so I could change and meet this dame I’d been talking to for the past week.”

When he didn’t continue right away, Sam said, “Did she tell you what was wrong?”

“Yeah, after I snapped at her. She… she said she found a lump. It was around the side of her chest, not quite under her arm but not really on her chest either. I made her show me, or I made her let me feel it. It was about half the size of a golf ball, and it was close to her… breast. So, that’s what she thought it was… breast cancer.”

“What did you think?”

“I thought about Steve’s mom. I thought about how sick she’d been and how she’d died and how now it was happenin’ to me. I… I went and got my dad, made him leave work early. My mom was refusin’ to go to the doctor. She thought it was curtains closed for her. She didn’t think she’d survive if it was cancer. She was so sure it was cancer. She was so sure it made _me_ sure.”

“And when she went to the doctor?”

Bucky snorted and shook his head. “She wouldn’t go. Not for over two months. The lump got bigger until it was almost the size of a golf ball.”

“Did Steve give you advice?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t tell Steve. I wanted… I didn’t feel like I should lay that shit on him. He’d lost his mom, and he was alone. He didn’t need to worry about anything else. So, I kept it to myself like it was some family secret we were all ashamed of or something.”

Darcy frowned and said, “What happened?”

He glanced over at her. “She finally went to the doctor, and they did some tests. I don’t even remember what they were. She wouldn’t let any of us go with her. She made six lemon meringue pies that morning, delivered them to the dollar store a few blocks away, and walked to the doctor herself. I tried to go with her, but she chased me off and told me she’d…” Bucky chuckled and smiled. “She said she’d tan my hide.”

Darcy laughed along with him, and the happy look he flashed her direction nearly sent her mind into a tailspin of adoration for him. She hadn’t seen him for a day, not since she’d made him dinner. She’d had to stop herself from going looking for him. The man had always been so private, and just because he was okay talking to her sometimes didn’t mean he wanted her hanging around all the time.

“And the results?” Sam asked. “What did they say?”

“It was a tumor, but it was benign.” He sighed and shifted on the cushion. “I’d spent weeks feelin’ like I had a brick in my stomach, waitin’ for my mom to pass out or get sick enough we’d be forced to take her to the hospital. I’d almost told Steve so many times, but always stopped myself. I think he knew something was wrong, but I wouldn’t tell him, and he probably didn’t want to push.”

“That’s good, though,” Sam said. “It wasn’t cancer.”

“Yeah, they removed the tumor. It left a scar, but she didn’t seem to care. She was just so happy it wasn’t gonna to kill her. I was happy, too. I just… It felt so strange to live with that for weeks and just _know_ it was going to end badly, and then… nothing. It was just done. Over. I felt like I was waitin’ on the other shoe to drop for months after.” He paused and then said, “I never told Steve. He still don’t know. Don’t tell him. He’d be hurt I kept it from him. He always wants to help, the punk.”

The three of them sat there in silence for a moment before Sam used his hands on the arms of the chair to push himself to his feet. “Well… uh, I have an appointment. See you two in a couple days?”

“Sure,” Bucky said.

After Sam had left, Darcy said, “He's pretty obvious about trying to leave us alone.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Darcy wanted to lean over and wrap her arms around him. “Don't be. I don't mind.” She paused and then said, “In fact, how do you feel about dinner tonight?”

“Are you cooking?” he asked, almost shyly as he slid his gaze over to her.

She nodded. “Yep. My place at seven?”

He shifted on the couch, his eyes bouncing around the room before he finally said, “Yeah. I'd… like that.”

“Any special requests?”

“Whatever you want to make me, doll.” After a moment’s consideration, he said, “Ain't had a good steak in a long time.”

“Steak it is,” Darcy told him, standing up with a smile. “See you at seven?”

“Seven,” he agreed, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a smile.

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Darcy cut out early and went to Grand Central Market. She was determined to make this one of the best meals Bucky Barnes had eaten in his life. She paid way too much for steaks at a butcher’s shop, found fresh green beans and fingerling potatoes at a farmer’s booth, and shelled out twenty-three bucks for a gorgeous chocolate cheesecake at a fancy bakery. If he didn’t eat it, then she’d gorge herself on it later.

The green beans and potatoes were roasting in the oven and the steaks were sizzling in the pan when he knocked on her door. She’d been so intent on cooking and getting the seasoning on the steaks just right that she’d forgotten to watch the clock.

Fluffing her hair, she walked over to her front door and opened it to reveal a nervous Bucky Barnes. He was in a pair of black slacks and a gray polo. His hair was brushed back from his face and tucked neatly behind his ears. His eyes, though, were going every which way, unable to hold her gaze for long before he dropped his them to look at the floor or over to the doorframe.

“Hey,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. He looked _good_ , but she didn’t think he could ever look bad. However, she could tell he wasn’t used to wearing slacks and collared shirts. The preppy look wasn’t really part of Bucky Barnes now, even if it had been decades ago when he was young and not a trained assassin. Something told her Bucky had always had a little bit of edge to him. He’d never been the prim and proper young man fathers wanted their daughters to marry. It was good she didn’t give a shit what her dad thought about her taste in men. Not that she had a chance with him or anything.

Bucky lifted his left arm and shoved a bottle at her. She took a step back and looked at what he was offering. It was a red wine, a Merlot to be exact. “What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s for you,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, anxiety written all over his face. “For dinner,” Bucky clarified.

She smiled at him and took it. After he entered, Darcy shut the door behind him. “How’d you get this? I thought you didn’t leave the building.”

“Sam got it for me,” he said.

“Does Sam know you’re having dinner with me?”

He swept his eyes over her apartment. She wondered what he thought of the Christmas lights that lined the room regardless of season or the eclectic artwork she’d gathered over the years, most of which had been done by friends or friends of friends. She was no art connoisseur, but she knew what she liked.

“Yeah, he knows. He knew when I asked him for the wine what I was up to,” Bucky said, turning to face her.

“What are you up to?”

“Having dinner with you.” His eyes went from taking in her decor to sweeping down her body from head to toe. She’d decided on a low-cut scoop neck top with a pencil skirt that might not have fit if the fabric had been less stretchy. So maybe she was showing off her assets a little. There was no rule against that. No rule that said she wasn’t allowed to tempt Bucky Barnes.

Her red lips parted when he moved his gaze back up her body and looked her in the eyes. She couldn’t quite read his expression. It was at that very moment the sizzle of meat registered. “Shit, the steaks,” she muttered, hurrying back over to the kitchen. She sat the bottle of wine on the marble island and turned the burner off before flipping the steaks over. She moved the pan to a cool burner to let the meat rest for a moment while she pulled the vegetables out of the oven.

When she turned around, Bucky was behind her, hands in his pockets while he looked at the food. “It smells so good,” he told her.

She laughed softly and dug her wine opener out of a drawer. “Here,” she told him, handing it over. “Open that bottle of wine while I put the food on plates.”

“Yes ma’am,” he murmured.

“Stop making ‘yes ma’am’ sound so sexy,” she teased, lifting two of the steaks up and arranging them on his plate.

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Darcy couldn’t help but smile at that glimpse of his sense of humor. It warmed her heart to see him reaching out and opening up instead of being so shut off. She filled the rest of his plate with vegetables before arranging her own plate.

“Hey, do you want to listen to my music? Something a little different than jazz?”

“I’d love to,” he replied right away. When she turned around, he’d already located the wine glasses on a shelf by the fridge and was in the process pouring.

Darcy took the plates over to the little breakfast nook by the windows. Her apartment wasn’t quite as big as Steve’s. Instead of a larger dining area, she just had a small two-seat wooden table in front of a large window that overlooked a very boring office building next door. Sometimes she’d sit there and hope to see something scandalous in one of the windows. All she ever witnessed were people slaving away at computers and the janitor that liked to dance while vacuuming the floors.

She used her phone to select one of her favorite albums, one she’d been listening to recently. It was an old release from Ryan Adams called _Love Is Hell_. She’d discovered it during her sophomore year of college and had loved it since. After listening to Bucky tell her that he didn’t like the cacophony that came out of the radio sometimes, she knew it might be something he’d like. A week before when she’d listened to it while falling asleep, she’d realized that the mood of the album reminded her of Bucky.

“This is a guy named Ryan Adams,” Darcy told him, walking back into the dining area with her phone in hand. He’d put a glass of wine next to her plate and was sipping his already. The first song was soft, subdued. It started with just a gentle piano and a hushed vocal that was almost spoken. She’d heard the entire album so many times, but hearing it now felt like hearing it for the first time through Bucky’s ears.

Darcy sat down and watched him as he stared out the window to her left and listened. His eyes were far away for the first few seconds, and then he shook his head as if he needed to clear away the thoughts. “It's good. Different, but good.” He sat down across from her. “I like it,” he said.

She smiled warmly at him. “Good. Now eat before it gets cold.”

She'd broken the ends off the green beans and pulled the strings off herself before seasoning them and the potatoes with salted butter, pepper, and just a bit of fresh garlic. The vegetables were tender and flavorful, due in large part to how fresh they.

Bucky hummed his pleasure as he shoveled two forkfuls of vegetables into his mouth before cutting into the steak with the knife she'd sat next to his plate. “Oh, _god_ ,” he said around the bite of meat. “Doll, this is amazing.”

Darcy sat back in her chair and look a long drink from her wine glass as she watched him devour one of the steaks. It wasn't until then that she cut hers into small pieces and tried it. He was right; it was delicious. She normally kept it simple with just olive oil and a few pinches of seasoning if the meat was quality. “I'm available for all your cooking needs,” she told him.

He cut off a chunk of the second steak. “I'm just gonna move in with you.”

She tilted her head back and laughed. Her face was already flushed from the wine, and she was feeling giddy. “I've only got one bedroom,” Darcy told him with a wink.

Bucky actually blushed, the apples of his cheeks turning pink. He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the plate as he polished off the vegetables. She wasn't sure if he was embarrassed by her teasing or if he was uncomfortable at the idea of sharing a bed. Or both. She opened her mouth to give him another verbal poke, to tell him she didn't mind sharing with _him_. The cagey look in his eyes made her reconsider and shut her mouth. He just seemed so brittle at that moment, like the wrong word would just break him into pieces.

The music had kicked up into mid tempo rock that featured guitar and drums. “Save room for dessert. I got a cheesecake from Grand Central Market. Have you ever been?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head before he washed down the last of his food with the rest of the wine.

“This bakery has a stall there. It's amazing. The best chocolate cheesecake you've ever had.”

He wrinkled his nose up. “Chocolate? Cheesecake should be cheesecake flavored.”

“Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it. How was dinner?”

“Amazing. Delicious. Thank you.”

Darcy waved away his thanks and finished the rest of her steak and veggies. “Thanks for the company.”

“Me? Company?” He seemed like he didn't quite believed her.

“Hey, you're great company. You're my favorite company lately.”

“Same,” he muttered softly, his eyes resolutely on his empty plate.

Darcy grinned. “Run that by me one more time? Who is your fav company right now?”

This time he looked her in the eye and said, “You.” He looked so serious and so vulnerable that all she could do was smile and stick her tongue out at him to break the tension.

Bucky chuckled and reached over to stack her plate on top of his. She watched from her seat as he walked around the corner into the kitchen. The way his wide shoulders tapered into narrow hips did things to her libido. She pushed herself up and found him rinsing off the plates in her sink. Instead of stopping him, she opened the fridge and pulled out dessert.

He stowed the dinner plates away in her empty dishwasher while she grabbed two smaller plates for the cheesecake. Darcy felt his eyes on her as she made slices across the circle with a long knife before using the blade to lift up and place a slice on each plate.

“Looks good,” he said, walking behind her and looking over her shoulder. Her body tensed as she thought about how he could easily step up a little closer, press against her back, pushing her hips into the edge of the counter, put his lips on her neck. She could feel his warm breath against her hair.

Darcy put a fork on his plate before she picked it up and turned around to offer it to him. He was so close, less than a foot from her body. A few weeks ago she might have been intimidated by this dangerous man–a man several people had told her was unhinged–being so close to her while they were alone in her apartment, but now she couldn’t seem to dredge up any feelings other than anticipation and that undercurrent of desire. Guilt lurked at the edges of her mind. He needed a friend, not some chick who was imagining him naked.

“It _is_ good,” she told him when he accepted the plate from her. She turned around and leaned her upper body over the counter, bracing her weight on her forearms while she sunk the tines of her fork into her slice of cheesecake.

Bucky moved to stand next to her, mimicking her posture. He was so close, his right arm was pressed against her left. She could feel his muscles bunch as he lifted the fork up to his mouth. Darcy unconsciously licked her lips as he closed his mouth around the first bite. She flicked her gaze from his lips to his eyes just as he let his eyelids slide closed.

“Almost better than sex, yeah?” she asked, a smile playing on her lips at the pleasure on his face.

“Mmm,” he replied. “I’ve always had a sweet tooth.”

“Me too,” Darcy agreed. “But your metabolism is faster than mine, so your ass is taking the rest of this cheesecake home.”

Bucky glanced over at her. “Your metabolism seems to be just fine,” he said before licking the residual sweetness off his lips.

“You telling me that my ass is just the right amount of big?”

The only light in the kitchen was the one over the sink. It emitted a soft glow that didn’t quite reach them as they stood with their backs to it. His eyes were unreadable and dark when he said, “Yeah.”

Darcy wanted to lean over and press her lips to his just to see what would happen. She was entertaining fantasies of him pushing up her skirt and putting his hands all over her. The muscles in Bucky’s right arm flexed as he cut into his slice with the side of his fork and ate another bite.

She watched him eat two more before she realized she should probably catch up. As she was savoring the crumbly crust, he softly said, “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

“For cheesecake?”

“For everything,” he replied, finishing up his slice.

Darcy took another bite of hers before saying, “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I want to.” Bucky dropped his head and sighed. “I just don’t know how. I don’t… I don’t have anything to give.”

Darcy reached her left arm back and laid her hand between his shoulder blades. His entire body tensed for a few seconds before he relaxed. She could tell it took everything he had to exhale a shaky breath and accept her touch. “You don’t need anything to give. I’m not selling dinner. It was my choice to do this, and I did it because I wanted to have dinner with you. Not because I wanted you to owe me.”

“But I do owe you. I owe you so much.”

She slid her hand down his spine and then up it before rubbing circles on his upper back. “Don’t be silly. You don’t owe me anything.”

“That feels nice,” he whispered, dropping his head closer to the countertop and closing his eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Darcy frowned, but continued those slow, rhythmic circles with her hand. “Because I like you. Because you deserve it. Because you’re nice to me.”

He laughed softly. “How could anyone be anything other than nice to you?”

“You’d be surprised. People can be real assholes.” Darcy paused and added, “But I think you already know that.”

“Yeah, they can be.” His eyes were still closed and his head still dropped down, only a couple inches from the countertop. “You look very pretty tonight,” he murmured so softly she almost didn’t hear what he’d said.

“So do you.” Darcy laughed at herself. “I mean, you look nice. Not pretty. Unless you want to look pretty, and then you totally do.”

He was laughing with her by the time she finished. “Hey, I’m glad you eavesdropped that day, and I’m glad you came back the next. I’m glad…”

When he trailed off, she prompted him to continue by saying, “You’re glad what?”

“I’m just… glad to be here. With you.”

“Me too. Glad you’re here, that is.” She slid her hand up and brushed her fingertips over the nape of his neck. His hair was soft, and his skin was warm.

“No one other than Steve has touched me since…”

“Since?”

“Since I escaped HYDRA.” He swallowed and added, “No one has touched me like this since… since…” He laughed softly, but it sounded very bitter. “Since I got shipped off to fight in the War.”

Darcy pinched the muscles going down the back of his neck between her thumb and index finger. “That’s a long time,” she whispered.

When she let the tips of her fingers move down his neck, her short nails dragging lightly along his skin, he shivered. “God, that feels so good.”

She laughed under her breath. “You know, if you want someone to feel up on you, I’m a very willing volunteer.”

He hummed in pleasure as he lifted his head up and turned it to the side to look at her. “I should go.”

Darcy slipped her fingertips under the collar of his shirt to touch that spot between his shoulder blades. “You can stay however long you want. I don't mind.”

“I shouldn't.” His voice was soft.

“Why shouldn't you?”

“Just shouldn't.”

Darcy squeezed the back of his neck between her thumb and forefinger again. The pressure made his eyes flutter closed again. Her stomach was in knots, thinking about how close he was and what he felt like beneath her fingers. She wished she could touch him more fully, take off his shirt and feel the way his muscles moved beneath his skin, make him sigh in contentment or pleasure.

He pushed off the counter and took two staggering steps back from her. Darcy's hand was still warm from the heat his body threw off. His expression was unhappy and maybe even just a little torn. “I'm sorry, I should go.”

“Okay. Just know you don't have to if you don't want to.”

“I do. Have to, that is. I…” He dropped his head and a lock of hair slipped out from behind his ear, falling against his forehead and cheek. Darcy watched as he made his way to the door.

He wasn’t comfortable with intimacy, and she probably shouldn't have touched him. The box with the remaining cheesecake was on the counter in front of her. She flipped the lid closed and picked it up. “Here,” she said, following behind him. “Take this.”

He turned around when he'd reached the door, eyes wide and almost fearful. It was a bit of a shock to see that expression brought on by her touch. “Take what?” he asked.

She held the box out. “Dessert. For later. I bought it for you.”

“Doll, you shouldn't buy me things.”

“Shut up, Bucky. Take the cheesecake.”

He shook his head, but accepted the box anyway. “Thank you for this and… for everything.”

“Anytime.”

After he'd left, she leaned against the closed door and thought about something she could do to make his life better. Something more than just cooking him dinner a couple times a week. He deserved more.


	7. Chapter 7

> _“So it's storming on the lake. Little waves, our bodies break. There's a fire going out, but there's really nothing to the south.” - Bon Iver (Calgary)_

The key and a slip of paper with the address of Tony's Beach house in Southampton were sitting on her kitchen counter. They'd magically appeared the night before. Darcy was only a little concerned that Tony Stark had access to her apartment. The fact that he was letting her stay in his mansion that would have probably cost her more than fifty grand in rent for a week made his sneaky ways a little more tolerable. She'd spent the morning looking at pictures of it on Google Earth and browsing the other houses–mansions–in the neighborhood. It was excess like she'd never seen. People actually lived like that.

She was currently standing in the kitchen of the lounge trying to work herself up to ask Bucky a question she was sure he would say no to. And she was determined not to take no for an answer. He slipped through the door and poked his head into the kitchen about ten minutes before Sam was due to arrive. She hadn't seen or spoken to him since he’d fled her apartment the night before last.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping into the room.

“Hey, you,” Darcy replied, pulling a mug down from the cabinet and pouring him a cup of coffee.

Bucky cleared his throat as he accepted the mug. “I'm sorry for running out on you after dinner.”

“No big deal. I mean, I know you've got a lot of stuff going on in your head, so don't feel like you need to explain yourself. You wanna leave, you should be able to leave.”

He pressed his hip into the counter and watched her with those gorgeous eyes. “I had a good time. A great time, actually. Your cooking is…”

“I know,” she said when he trailed off. “My cooking is the tits.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “The tits?”

Darcy pursed her lips before breaking into a smile. “Yeah. Slang for awesome, the best. The tits.”

“Ahh, the tits.”

“So, I've got a proposition for you,” she said, wrapping one arm around her body just under her breasts and bringing the other hand up to take a drink from her cup. The coffee was a tad too hot.

Bucky raised his brows. “Okay. What's the proposition?”

“I've got a really fancy and really massive beach house in Southampton for the next week. It's absolutely disgusting, and I can't justify staying there all by myself. You should get outta this building and come with.”

He shook his head. “I don't think that's a good idea, doll.”

“It’s secure. Best security system in The Hamptons, probably. It's secluded. No neighbors visible from the house. It's got a huge pool, eight bedrooms, and even more bathrooms. You wouldn't even have to see me if you went.”

“It ain't you that I'm worried about. I'm not safe out there.”

“Pretty sure you can take care of yourself.”

He shook his head again and sighed. “Ain’t worried about me. I'm more worried about me hurtin’ you or someone else. Worried about HYDRA capturing me.”

“Isn't that what you're working on with Sam?”

“What about Sam?” the man himself said, appearing in the doorway. He swept his eyes over the two of them standing only a couple feet apart before he pulled a mug out of the cabinet and filled it with what was left in the coffee pot.

“I'm trying to convince Bucky to take a vacation.”

Sam raised his brows. “Oh, yeah? What kind of vacation?”

“No,” Bucky told her and Sam.

“Yes.” Darcy directed her attention to Sam now. “I have Tony's bitchin’ beach house in Southampton for a week. It's huge.”

“I’m a security risk,” Bucky told her, his voice flat and emotionless. “And Tony Stark hates me. He'd never let me in that house.”

“You're in his office building. What's the difference?” she asked.

“He doesn't have a choice. If HYDRA locates and captures me using the programming then–”

“Do you think we've made progress on those triggers?” Sam asked, interrupting.

Bucky snorted and shook his head. “Don't feel any different. For all I know, it's all right there. Right under the surface just waiting for one of those assholes to take advantage. I can't… I can't go back. I can't be… can't do that again. I'll… I…”

Darcy reached out and touched his right arm just above the elbow. His skin was as warm as she remembered it from the last time she'd touched him. “The community is gated and the house has the same security system this building runs on. I checked. Plus, no one would know you're there. Just you and me and Sam. And Steve if you want him to know.”

“And Stark.”

Darcy shrugged. “We don't have to tell him. He can find out after the fact. He's already given me the key fob.”

“No, doll. It's not safe for you or anyone else. Not until I know they can't control me.”

“You wanna test it?” Sam asked.

“No.” Bucky's voice was firm and serious. “No,” he repeated.

Sam held up his free hand, palm facing Bucky. “Okay. Just a thought. You know, the chances of you getting nabbed are pretty slim with the security system and privacy. You could leave the building without anyone even knowing. If they have you under surveillance, they’d still think you’re here.”

“Not worth the risk. I could kill her.”

“You wouldn't,” Darcy said.

He flicked his gaze back over to her. “You don't know what I was, what I am. They could make me strangle you with my bare hands. You could beg me, and I'd never even register what you were asking, not if they told me to kill you.” He looked away. “You don't know what I am,” Bucky repeated.

He was right. She didn't know much about him beyond what she'd read in the news after his attempt on Fury’s life and what she'd read about his work with the Howling Commandos. And what he'd told her and Sam during the therapy sessions. She knew he’d been brainwashed into carrying out assassinations for HYDRA. She knew he’d been the best at what he did, a veritable killing machine who had taken out a great deal of high-profile targets. She knew two of those people were Tony Stark’s parents back in the early nineties. She knew the trigger words he’d been discussing with Sam had the potential to drop him into a hypnotic state where he was susceptible to direction or instruction. What she didn’t know were the details because he refused to talk about them. A few days ago he’d said she didn’t know the half of it, and he was probably right.

“So tell me,” Darcy said, trying to will Bucky to look up and acknowledge her instead of keeping his eyes resolutely on the floor.

“I don’t want to,” he replied, refusing to turn his gaze over to her. His admission felt like a punch to the gut. She thought he trusted her. He’d been so open with her about the trigger words and his memories, most of which seemed to make him ashamed. Fast on the heels of the hurt was a taste of her own shame for thinking he owed her anything. Just because he shared one part of his life with her didn’t mean he was obligated to share another. Truth be told, the part he was holding close–those years as the Winter Solider–were probably more traumatic to him than the memories associated with the triggers.

“Okay,” Darcy finally said after a long, tense moment.

Sam caught Bucky’s eye and tilted his head toward to the lounge. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Barnes?”

Bucky hugged the wall as he went past her, as if he was afraid of getting too near. She felt that little pang of hurt in her chest. Maybe she’d overestimated how close they were. Maybe she’d been making things up in her head because she wanted to help him. Maybe he didn’t want her help.

She looked over to see Sam watching her, his gaze stern as if he were telling her to stay put. Darcy turned around and sat down heavily in one of the chairs by the bistro table. Looking down into her coffee, she listened to their hushed conversation just on the other side of the wall.

“You should let her help you, Barnes. She might be good for you.”

Bucky’s voice was softer, barely heard in the silent kitchen. “I don’t want to hurt her.”

“She knows Thor, Tony, and Bruce already. Knowing you isn’t going to put her in that much more danger.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it. HYDRA wants me back in the fold or dead. If she’s anywhere near me, then she’s going to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Literally or figuratively?” Sam asked.

“Both.”

Sam dropped his voice a little and said, “Did you have dinner with her a couple of nights ago?” She suspected both the men didn’t think she could hear them.

“We’ve had dinner together a few times.”

“You like her.”

Bucky’s answer was barely there, but she heard him say, “Of course I do.”

“Look, I understand your concerns about leaving the building. You’re not wrong; it is dangerous. I think it’d do you good, though. I think spending time with someone who isn’t in the life would help. Get you out of your head. You know? But I get it–why you’re reluctant to risk them finding you. You just need to acknowledge that there are ways to mitigate that risk. They don’t have a tracker on you; we checked. You _can_ leave the building without them knowing, despite what you may think.”

They were silent for a long moment. Darcy held her breath until Bucky finally said, “I don’t wanna talk about it. Let’s just… get this over with.”

“You gonna go get her?”

Bucky sighed. “Yeah.”

She looked up from her mug of black coffee to see him standing in the doorway, his right shoulder pressed against the doorframe. His eyes looked regretful and unhappy. “I can’t risk it, doll,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Darcy understood what he was saying and why he was saying it, but that didn’t mean she agreed or liked it. It didn’t mean she wasn’t just a little bit hurt that he didn’t trust her enough to talk to her about his more recent past with HYDRA. “Okay, I get it,” she told him.

He pulled in a breath of air and exhaled it audibly as if he were exhausted. “Do you… Are you, uh, joining us? In the lounge?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

Darcy pushed herself up and joined them with her mug in hand. She settled into her usual spot on the far side of the couch, folding one of her legs beneath her and turning to look at Bucky's profile as he sat down. His unwillingness to trust her completely still stung, but she knew she shouldn’t internalize it so much. He’d been used–his autonomy stripped from him–for so many years that she had no right to make anything about herself in the situation. That didn’t stop her from wishing that he trusted her, though.

“What word are we talking about today?” Sam asked. His face was schooled into a look of interest and understanding.

“Homecoming,” was Bucky's murmured response.

Sam nodded his head once at Bucky and waited for the other man to continue.

Bucky turned his head just slightly to cast his gaze over at Darcy. He looked haunted and so very sad. She wanted to reach out to touch him and provide some sort of comfort, but she remembered his reaction when he’d run out of her apartment after dinner. She also remembered him skirting around her in the kitchen so there were no accidental touches. Maybe she’d pushed him too far that night.

“It was right after basic training.” He pulled in a huge breath and blew it out in a heavy sigh. “They sent us home until we got our assignments, before we knew if we were going to England or France or wherever else. I wanted to go to the thick of it.” Bucky snorted. “I was stupid. I guess everyone is when they’re young. I just… maybe I was more stupid than most. Naive to the way the world was… is. So, I came home and saw my family, Steve. Steve was hell bent on getting into the service.” Bucky glanced over at Darcy again and said, “He had a crooked spine and a bunch of other things that kept him out of the army. No recruiter would accept him until he lied on his medical forms.”

Darcy gave him a small smile. “I thought Captain America was an upstanding citizen who always followed the rules.”

Another snort from Bucky, this time a bit louder. “Doll, that punk ain’t _ever_ followed rules or orders. He does what he damn well pleases.”

This made her chuckle and shake her head at him. The idea of that all-American Steven Grant Rogers was more of a rebel than his bad-boy best friend seemed somewhat ridiculous.

“I’d been seeing this dame before I left for basic. Her name was Dorothy. Wasn’t nothing serious with a ring in the future, but maybe it would have been that down the line. When I left she told me she’d be waitin’ for me when I got back. I… I believed her. I was pretty full of myself back then.” He shook his head and continued with, “I got back right before our school’s homecoming. She’d written me while I was away in basic and told me that she was hoping I’d get back in time, so we’d be able to go to the football game. I thought it’d be perfect. I could go with Dorothy, spend time with Steve, brag to everyone about enlisting and how much of a hero I was gonna be. All that.”

Bucky dropped his gaze to the floor and shook his head. “You were young, a kid,” Sam said in a soft voice. “Kids don’t know what it’s like. No one knows what combat is like until you’re in it. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for that.”

Darcy had only had a taste of combat when she and Jane had gotten mixed up with Thor. It was enough to know that she didn’t want any part of that ever again. The idea of groups of people actively trying to end each others lives was terrifying. Sam was right, though. No one could ever explain the feeling of fighting in a war; you just had to live it.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. “I was naive about war, but I was also naive about women.”

Sam lifted his brows. “Dorothy wasn’t on the level?”

“Dorothy liked the idea of her guy off fighting the Nazis, but didn’t want to give up attention at home.”

“Ah,” Sam said, pressing his lips together in a sympathetic smile. “I’m familiar.”

“She cheated on _you_?” Darcy asked in an incredulous voice. It has just popped out of her mouth. After she’d asked the question, she slapped her right hand over her mouth to cover it.

Bucky glanced over and gave her a sad smile. “Sure enough. Heard from more than one person that she was seeing Charles Fisher. He worked with his dad at the bank. Made good money and liked to throw it around for the dames. I couldn’t compete.”

“But…” Darcy trailed off before she said something silly about how he was the most attractive man she’d ever laid eyes on. And she’d laid her eyes on a few doozies like serum’d up Steve Rogers and demi-god Thor Odinson.

Bucky was watching her, waiting for her to finish. When she glanced over at Sam for assistance in moving the conversation along, the other man just smirked and crossed his right ankle over his left knee.

“But that’s really shitty of her to lead you on like that,” she finally said.

Bucky shrugged and turned his gaze back to the floor.

The absence of his blue eyes studying her loosened Darcy’s tongue. “Plus, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that you’re probably way hotter then and now than Chuck Fisher ever hoped to be.”

He didn’t look at her, but she saw the way the corners of his mouth twitched, lifting up just the slightest bit. “He was around; I wasn’t.”

“Still. War hero versus spoiled daddy’s boy? Uh, I know what _I’d_ pick.”

Sam snorted in his attempt to smother his chuckle.

“Wasn’t no war hero back then,” Bucky said with a shake of his head. “I was just some stupid kid who thought he knew what he was doing, what he was getting into.”

“No one could have known what was going to happen,” she insisted.

Sam cleared his throat. “No one can prepare you for the service, not recruiters or even bootcamp instructors. You weren’t any different than most of those guys in your unit when they started out.”

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah, well… I was stupid. Maybe we all were. Stupid about the War and stupid about dames.”

“So, what happened with Dorothy and the homecoming game?”

His eyes were on the floor. “She went with him. I drank too much at a bar around the corner from my parents’ place. Pissed my mom off when I came home drunk and broke her vase by the door. The next day I called up a couple girls I knew and asked them if they wanted to go dancing with me and Steve. They didn’t know Steve, but they said yes.”

“Smart girls,” Darcy muttered.

“Lesson learned, I guess. Thought I was invincible with women and life. Turns out, that’s not very true.” He looked over at Sam. “So, that’s homecoming. We done?”

“Two more,” Sam reminded him.

“Yeah, I know. We done for today, though?”

“Do you want to talk about Darcy’s offer?” Sam asked, shooting a glance over at her before returning his eyes to Bucky.

Darcy watched Bucky’s body language change as he folded in on himself, his shoulders pulling forward and his chin dropping to his chest. “No.”

“I think you should consider it. There _are_ safe ways to get out of the building, you know.”

“I don’t…” Bucky sighed heavily.

Darcy held out up a hand. “Look, if he doesn’t want to go, I don’t want to force him. Bucky, it’s fine. Really.”

“It’s not you,” he said with conviction, looking up at her when he did.

She shook her head. “It’s fine, Bucky. Really.”

“I need you to understand it has nothing to do with you.”

“I understand,” she replied.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

Darcy did understand, but she didn’t really like it. He deserved to be happy. Or at least _she_ thought he did. The person she’d assumed he was before eavesdropping that day was very different than the person she’d discovered him to be. Instead of being grumpy and short-tempered with a dangerous edge, he was thoughtful and withdrawn. She suspected he was reluctant to engage people because he’d not had many good interactions over the past few years. She’d wanted to ask him about his time in Bucharest at the end of the session that afternoon, but he’d fled after making sure she didn’t think he was turning down her offer of a week in the Hamptons because of her.

She had a duffle bag on her bed that she’d already thrown some clothes into, including two bathing suits she’d never worn. In theory the indoor pool in the first sublevel of the Tower sounded amazing. In reality, it was often crowded with employees and always stank of a liberal use of chlorine.

She’d thrown on an old pair of shorts and an oversized tee to sleep in while she tossed the last few things in her duffle. Underwear, tank tops, a hoodie, four books she’d been meaning to read for well over a year. No socks, though. Socks were for suckers. She was going to spend the week in flip-flops and to hell with her podiatrist father who constantly warned her that it was terrible for her feet. To hell with him.

Sam was headed to a conference for Veterans Affairs in Phoenix for the next five days. Darcy was glad to hear it because she really didn’t want to miss out on a therapy session with Bucky. There were only two words left, according to her count. She didn’t know what they were, but she didn’t want to miss the stories behind them, nor did she want to skip out on Bucky. She’d almost made one final appeal to him before she’d returned to her room for the evening, but she’d have to go knocking on his door, and she didn’t want to be a pest.

Just as she reached over to zip up the duffle, there were three thumps against her door. Since she wasn’t expecting anyone, her heart shot into her throat and then dropped back down into her stomach. “Jesus,” she muttered, pressing her right hand over her heart and making her way out of the bedroom.

“Jane, if this is you telling me that I can’t leave for my vacation because you made some stupid breakthrough, then I’m going to pour salt in your damn coffee in the morning,” she muttered to herself before she jerked open the door.

Bucky was standing in front of her in a pair of thigh-hugging black jeans and a white tee that let her see the magnificence of his vibranium arm. “Hi,” he said, shifting his eyes away from her and down the hall.

“Hi, Bucky,” Darcy said, unable to hide the tone of surprise in her voice.

He adjusted a backpack on his shoulder and cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”

Darcy stepped back. “Sure. Of course. You don’t even need to ask, you know.”

He gave her a small smile as he stepped past her and walked over to her sitting area. The smile was strained and barely there because he looked like he was anxious. Darcy closed the door and turned around to see him set the backpack down on the coffee table. It was old and beaten up with some of the shoulder strap frayed. “Can we talk?” he ask, his voice not much more than a whisper.

Raising her brows, she walked over and said, “Talk about what?”

“Me.”

Darcy smiled. “Sure. That’s my fav topic.”

Her joke felt flat. When she was able to get a good view of his face, he looked like he was a few seconds from sticking his head in her toilet or the nearest trash can.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

“I trust you,” he said.

Darcy widened her eyes and nodded. “I know you do.” She gestured at the backpack. “What's in the bag?”

“Journals. Things I remembered and wrote down after I escaped.” He learned over and unzipped the bag. “I want you to read them.”

He looked like he was in pain. “Is that really what you want?” she asked. “Or is that what Sam said you should do?”

“Sam didn't tell me to do this. I want…” He sighed and shook his head. “I don't _really_ want you to read these, but I think I need you to.”

“Whatever is in them, it doesn't matter to me.”

“But it matters to me. And it _should_ matter to you. I don't think you really know who I am. If you did, then you never would have done all these nice things for me.”

Darcy walked around the coffee table and let herself flop back onto the plush couch. “Zip it back up, Bucky. I don't care.”

He carefully sat down beside her, leaving at least a foot of space between them. He was very careful where he put his body in relation to people. She'd only been close with him twice–on the landing pad that morning and after dinner a couple nights ago. Both times were seared into her memory, and she wondered if it was the same for him.

Bucky reached into the bag and pulled out an old, battered notebook. The corners of the cover were bent and creased, and the metal of the spiral binding was dull with use. She would have said age, but he'd only escaped a few years ago. She watched him look down at the notebook for a long moment before he shoved it toward her.

Darcy didn't accept it immediately. “I told you, nothing in that book matters.”

“I need you to understand,” he replied, dropping the book on her lap.

It was the kind of notebook she'd used in junior high–cheap with the silver spiral binding down the side, white pages with blue lines tracking across them within. Sensible. No pretention. She trailed her fingertips across the cover. It had been wet or damp at some point. The bottom half of the cover and the first few pages had slight water damage that caused them to warp and lift away from one another.

“Open it,” he said softly. “Please.”

She did as he asked, discovering a wall of text on the first page. His elegant penmanship was only broken by a few blank lines separating three paragraphs. There was a date jotted in the margin with a different pen. He'd written down the memory and added the date after the fact. The bottom few lines were fuzzy from the water damage, but still legible. “This won't change anything,” she told him, looking up from the page to take in his face.

“Yes, it will. I'll understand if you want me to leave after you finish that one.”

“How many are there?”

“Three. That one is the worst, but the others are still… bad.” His eyes were wide, almost terrified. She felt her heart ache for him when he swallowed hard and said, “Just read it, doll.”

Maybe, just maybe, she could convince him to break out of his shell. “I'll make a deal with you.”

He looked wary. “What kind of deal?”

“If I read all three notebooks and still want you to go to the beach house with me, then you'll go.”

“I can't leave the building.”

“So you agree that these books won't change anything, then?”

“No, I think you'll stop talking to me after you read them. That's why I didn't…” He took a deep breath and tried again. “That's why I didn't want to talk to you about that part of my life.”

Darcy shrugged. “So what do you have to lose, then? According to you, I won't want you to come with me after I finish these anyway.”

He thought about it for a moment before saying, “Okay. Fine. I'll come with you if you still want me to. After you read the books, though.”

Darcy dropped her eyes to the page again. The date on the edge was nineteen ninety-one. Tony's parents’ names were on the first line.

“I… I want you to know I'd… I'd never hurt you,” he whispered.

Darcy glanced over at him, her brows furrowed. “What?”

Bucky's gestured weakly to the open notebook in her lap. “I'm not a good person. You'll find that out. And I'll leave when you want me to leave, but please don't…” It sounded like his throat closed up on him so he couldn't get out the rest of the sentence.

“Don't what, Bucky?”

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. “Don't be afraid of me.”

“I'm not.”

“You will be,” he replied.

Darcy shook her head and turned her attention back to the jumbled and disjointed notes that told the story of how he assassinated the founder of Stark Industries and his wife.

“I'm sorry,” she heard Bucky say on a gentle exhale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this chapter on my phone in the bathroom because my boyfriend won't stop talking to me and let me concentrate.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left a comment. We're midway through this tale! I hope you enjoy the second half. Feedback is love.


	8. Chapter 8

> _“The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want. I wanna be around, I wanna be around you, girl.” - Coming Home (Leon Bridges)_

It was almost midnight when she finished reading. The notebooks, filled with black ink in his effortlessly elegant handwriting, were terrible. The first one detailed the worst of his missions–how he brought about brutal deaths to countless people, many of whom were innocent or even working toward making the world a better place. Not only had he written about the circumstances and methods of the assassinations, but he guessed at the reasons behind why HYDRA was threatened by whomever they’d sent him after. There were many assassinations–well over what was known or even speculated–and Darcy found it difficult to reconcile the man sitting beside her with the one who had done these things.

He’d sat there in silence, hunched over with his forearms resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. His head had been bent to stare at the floor between his feet. Most of the time, his eyes hadn’t been open when she’d glanced over at him as she’d flipped through the pages of the first notebook. He’d looked like he was waiting to be executed with the way body bent in on itself with his knuckles pale from the tension in his hands.

After she’d finished the first book and started on the second, he seemed wary and then unsure of why she hadn’t asked him to leave her apartment after finishing the first. The second had more blank pages in the back than the nearly-full first book. It contained information on the inner workings of HYDRA. She suspected he’d already provided most, if not all, of the information to Steve or whoever they worked with in the government. All that was still a little hazy to her. She wasn’t sure who exactly footed the bill for the Avengers, nor did she understand how some of them weren’t in jail after what had happened a couple years ago with the mess in Sokovia and the Accords. Everyone was pretty tight-lipped about it. Darcy suspected Tony Stark had more than a little to do with the money and everything else.

Bucky was standing by the window when she finished the worst of the notebooks. He’d been wrong; it wasn’t the first one. The worst was the third, or at least it was to her. The first with it’s list of murders was terrible, but she didn’t know those people. She knew him, though. The third notebook contained scattered notes in a shaky hand, disjointed snapshots of the abuse they’d inflicted on him. It wasn’t in chronological order, and there were no dates written in the margins like the other two books. There were fuzzy details of medical experiments, painful surgeries, injected drugs–all of it dripping in fear with more than a few hastily scribbled question marks interspersed between words when it was clear he wasn’t sure what had been done to him. There were details on beatings and forced fights to the death with disposable operatives in an effort to train him, make him a better soldier.

It all made her sick to her stomach. She’d never known such cruelty in her life, and it was a wonder that Bucky could stand to touch anyone after what he’d suffered. He’d only filled in the first twenty pages of the notebook. The rest was blank, perhaps waiting for him to remember more. After she’d closed the book and set all three in a pile beside the tattered backpack, he said, “I took the third one out at first. I didn’t want you to see it.”

She couldn’t his face because his back was still to her. His right forearm was resting against the wall next to the window so he could lean in and look down at the street. “Why did you put it back in?”

His shoulders lifted up in a shrug. “You know everything else now. Why not?” He turned around and his eyes were a little shiny like he had the beginning of tears in them. “If you put the notebooks back in the bag, I’ll take it and leave.”

She knew her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, too. “Do you think I want you to leave?”

“Yes. I’m sure you do.”

Darcy shook her head. Instead of packing away the notebooks, she stood up and said, “I don’t. Do you want a drink? Maybe a pina colada since we’re going to the beach tomorrow?”

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Finally, he said, “Doll, please don’t play with me.”

She raised her brows. “Oh, I’m not playing. We had a deal. I read the books, and if I don’t hate you afterward then you have to come keep me company at the beach for a week. I read them. I don’t hate you. I might hate those fuckers that treated you like shit, but not you. Are you keeping your end of the deal?”

He exhaled and his shoulders sagged, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. “Doll…”

Darcy held up her hand to stop him. “It’s okay. The deal was a shitty thing to do. I knew the notebooks wouldn’t change anything, so I trapped you into agreeing to go along. That wasn’t fair.” She walked across the open living area and around the island that separated it from the kitchen. Bucky followed behind, but kept the massive island between them, choosing to stand in the living room. She pulled open the fridge and found the half-full containers of pineapple juice and coconut milk. She’d bought them the previous week when Tony had surprised her with the key to his house in the Hamptons. She’d been so excited to get away, she’d had a few pina coladas one night. The celebration all by herself in her apartment hadn’t really been worth the hangover the next morning.

“How could you know they wouldn’t change anything?” he asked.

Darcy shrugged and set the containers on the island. “Because all that bad shit in the first notebook wasn’t you.”

“It _was_ me.”

“It was HYDRA pulling your strings with their shitty mind control. You’re in the third book. And that book makes me think you need a vacation with some peace and quiet way more than I do.” She spun around and pulled the nearly full bottle of rum off the counter by the fridge, adding it to the other ingredients. “But like I said, I understand why you don’t wanna risk it. I don’t wanna be like them and make you do something you don’t really want to do.”

He was so still, watching her with those blue eyes. The intensity of his gaze made Darcy uncomfortable. She wanted to fill the silence with words. Instead, she found two pint glasses. Not exactly the preferred glass for a pina colada, but they’d have to do. It wasn’t like she was a bartender or anything.

“I want to, doll. I just can’t.”

She looked up at him when she sat the glasses down. “You want to what?”

“Go with you. I don’t like being in this building. I feel like it’s closing in on me. If I leave, though… If I leave and something happens… I can’t risk that. You say none of those deaths are on my head. I don’t know if I agree with that, but if I leave and someone dies because of it… Well, that’s definitely on my head.”

Darcy grabbed two handfuls of ice from the drawer in the freezer. “I get it. I don’t agree because any deaths are on HYDRA’s head, but I get it. Just goes to show you’re a good guy despite what you might think,” she said, dropping a handful of ice in each of the glasses.

He watched her fill the bottom third with pineapple juice before he said, “Are you making me drink with you right now?”

She looked up as she opened the coconut milk. “Yes. Do you have a problem with that, too?”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m barely keeping up with you,” he admitted.

Frowning, Darcy said, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s good. You’re… good. You’re… I’m grateful for you.”

Pouring the coconut milk in on top of the pineapple juice was satisfying. She watched the white tendrils seep down into the yellow juice. She tried not to let her mind run away with what he was saying. He needed a friend, not some silly girl who was developing a crush of massive proportions on him. Strike that. She _already had_ a crush on him; she was falling for him.

Darcy had been serious about three guys in her life–one high school sweetheart that she lost her virginity to in the basement of his parents’ house while they watched reruns of Behind the Music, a whirlwind romance when she first went away to college with a twenty-two year old guy who she thought was _so mature_ even though he was getting trashed every Friday night, and a guy she met at the campus bookstore in her junior year. She’d shared an apartment with the last guy. She probably would have ended up marrying the last guy if he hadn’t cheated on her shortly after graduation with his ex-girlfriend. It was one of the circumstances that pushed her to apply for the internship in New Mexico with Jane. She was starting to think that maybe if all that had eventually led to her meeting Bucky Barnes, then maybe it was all worth it. That was just crazy, though.

“I’m a helper,” she said, brushing off his compliment and opening the bottle of rum.

“You’re more than that,” he said.

His sweet response made her uncomfortable because she didn’t know what he meant. She knew what she _wanted_ him to mean, but his intention was probably different. “Too bad I don’t have that Asgardian liquor to get you all loosey goosey so you’d agree to my beach vacation.”

He smiled at her, and even though it looked sad, it lifted that worried look he’d been wearing since he walk through her door.

She tipped the bottle of rum over the first glass and let a generous shot or two slide out. “Doll, that’s a lot of liquor, don’t you think?”

Darcy looked up at him and raised her brows. “I’m a big girl; I know my limits.”

He chuckled softly and watched her dump just as much rum into his glass before she pulled open a drawer and used a spoon she found to mix the ingredients.

“Here,” Darcy said, pushing his glass across the island.

He picked it up and sniffed. “I’ve never had one of these before.”

“They’re good. Not my drink of choice or anything. They get to be too sweet after two or three, but they remind me of the beach.”

She watched him turn his back and walk over to the couch. Ignoring his backpack and the notebooks stacked beside it, he sat down and sighed. “I feel so tired,” he admitted.

Darcy walked across the room to sit beside him, leaving a foot of space between them like he had done. She hadn’t appreciated how much effort it had probably taken him to let her sit so close that morning on the landing pad when they’d watched the sun rise over Manhattan. “Why so tired?”

He shook his head and sniffed the drink again. “I was preparing myself for you to hate me. I didn’t want that to happen.”

“Then breathe a sigh of relief because I don’t hate you.” She took a sip of her drink and licked the residual off her upper lip. It wasn’t like a real pina colada you got at one of those nice bars on the beach where they blend it all up and serve it frozen, but it was passable.

He took the first drink of his and grimaced.

Darcy laughed when she saw the expression on his face. “What? You don’t like it?”

“It’s… very sweet.”

“Yeah, it’s got rum and juice in it.”

He took another drink, and she could tell he was trying to keep his face from revealing what he thought. Instead of keeping it in his hand, he sat it down on the table, right on top of the notebooks like they were a coaster.

Darcy took another drink before saying, “Hey, I’m sorry for that last night we had dinner. I… shouldn’t have touched you without your permission. That wasn’t cool of me. I understand it more now after reading…” Instead of finishing the thought, she nodded at the books on the table. “So, sorry about that.”

He shook his head when he looked over at her. “Don’t apologize for that. You didn’t do anything wrong. It didn’t bother me.”

“You ran out of my apartment like it was on fire.”

“It wasn’t… That wasn’t why I.... It wasn’t you. I left because…” He took a deep breath and exhaled out his mouth. His hands were pressed against his thighs, his fingers curled around his knees like he didn’t know where to put them otherwise.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” she told him.

“Sometimes being close to people makes me uncomfortable. I had a good time that night. Don’t apologize for anything.”

She sipped on her pina colada and watched him from the corner of her eye. After a moment, he leaned forward and picked up his glass. He took a tiny drink before putting it back down. Darcy giggled at his obvious dislike of it. “You don’t have to drink it, Bucky.”

He laughed along with her and settled back into the couch, his body language a bit more open than it had been a moment before. He turned toward her, bending his arm at the elbow and resting it on the back of the couch. “You made it for me. Don't wanna be ungrateful.”

“I didn't make it to torture your taste buds. You want a beer?”

“Do you have a beer?”

She pushed herself up and walked over to the fridge. Halfway there, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Hell yes, I have a beer. And none of that Bud Light bullshit either.”

She handed him the bottle she'd retrieved from the fridge and watched as he flipped the lid off with the thumb of his left hand. She'd never need a bottle opener with him around.

“Thanks, doll.”

She plopped down next next to him, but not quite touching. He remained relaxed while he took a long drink from bottle. “Thank you for trusting me,” she said before sipping on her drink.

“You're an easy person to trust.”

Darcy raised her brows. “Am I? I eavesdropped on your therapy sessions.”

“I knew you were there from the beginning.”

“But I didn't know you knew, and I stuck around.”

He took another drink and rested the bottle of beer on his thigh. “Why did you stick around anyway?” he asked.

“Well… I guess I wanted to know more about you. I, uh, well, maybe I had this idea of who you'd be. When I realized who was talking, you sounded so different than what I'd imagined that I wanted to know more.”

“What did you imagine?”

She stalled by taking a drink from her glass. “I figured you'd be all grumpy and all business and short-tempered. Maybe even a little hell-bent on revenge.”

He brought the bottle up to his lips and said, “And I'm not?” before taking a swig.

“Well, even if you are those things–and I don't think you are–you're a lot of other things, too. You're more complicated than I thought. But I guess that's usually how it goes, right? You always assume people you don't know are simple, one-dimensional, until you get to know them.” She paused and glanced over to smile at him. “I'm glad you let me get to know you.”

He chuckled. “Honestly, I was so surprised you wanted to that I didn't know what else to do.”

“Come on now, Bucky. This is the part where you tell me that I'm the best listener and you handpicked me to be your new friend because I'm so awesome.”

His laughed his time. It was brief, but it was still a laugh. “You _are_ the best, and I couldn't have found someone better to talk to.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “Wait, Sam isn't making you talk to me, right? I'm not, like, a homework assignment for your therapy sessions, am I?”

“No, I started talking to you all on my own. Or… maybe it was you that started talking to me.”

“It was you,” she confirmed. “I just got you a milkshake.”

“Malt,” he corrected. “And a record player and a Charlie Parker record.” He took another swig from his bottle of beer. “And muffins and coffee and more records and dinner.” He smiled. “And more dinner.”

Darcy waved her hand in the air as if to dismiss the list of gifts. “You deserved them all. You right the wrongs of the world your way, and I'll right the wrong of the world my way.”

He looked over at her. “Is that what this is? You balancing out what was done to me?”

“Maybe at first. Not anymore, really.”

“What is this, then?”

She shrugged and sipped on her drink. “A fledgling friendship?”

“I guess I could use another friend. I've been short on them lately.” He finished off his beer and sat the bottle by his barely-touched pina colada. “Are you sure you want to be friends with _me_ , though? After reading all that?” Bucky nodded at the stack of notebooks.

Darcy pushed herself up and said, “Of course. Want another beer?”

“One more before I go,” he agreed. She was bent over, pulling a bottle of beer out of her fridge when he called out and said, “Were you packing for the beach when I knocked on your door?”

“Yep,” she said, pushing the door shut with her hip and making her way back into the living area. “I was getting ready to work on my beach playlist.”

“Your what?” he asked, accepting the beer from her.

She stood before him, just the coffee table between them. “Playlist. Mixtape.” Darcy threw her hands in the air. “Ugh, you turn of the twentieth century guys. It's a list of songs, usually with a theme or something in common.”

“What’s in your beach playlist?” he asked as he opened the bottle.

She put her hands on her hips and tried not to read into the way his eyes moved down her body and then back up to meet her gaze. “Why? You looking to expand your musical horizons?”

“Sure. I liked that Ryan Adam's record, the one you played for me.”

“Ryan Adam is definitely not beach music.”

He took a drink. The way his lips pressed against the mouth of the bottle was heating up her insides. “So tell me what is,” he said.

She snatched her cell off the coffee table and pulled up the music player. It was connected to the sound system, so if she played music within the apartment it would play over the speakers. It was just another creature comfort she hadn’t experienced before moving into Tony Stark’s high tech building in the heart of Manhattan.

Darcy pulled up the playlist and touched the first track. It a song by Leon Bridges, a throwback to sixties soul music. In fact, the entire album it had come from was a bit of a nod to one of the giants of the genre, Sam Cooke. Darcy had a soft spot for classic soul. She remembered sitting in the backseat of her parents’ car early in the morning while her mom drove her to school, listening to the oldies station. The Isley Brothers, The Temptations, The Supremes, Otis Redding, they all gave her a good feeling when they came on.

The recording that came out of her speakers sounded vintage, aged, old. It wasn’t, but the producer and engineer had done a good job of making it sound like it had been recorded in the sixties. “Beach music,” she told Bucky as she bent down and picked up his full glass. He watched her drink what he’d only sipped as she stood in front of him and swayed to the music.

When she looked down at him, he’d tilted his head and was smiling at her. The warmth in his eyes and the way the corners of his eyes creased with smile lines made her heart skip a beat. She’d gone on second or third dates with guys, even had a boyfriend, who had never looked at her with such affection. She wanted to crawl into his lap, but didn’t know if that he’d welcome it. It seemed like he preferred a little distance, just a foot of space so they didn’t touch. It was hard for her because she liked to touch. She especially like the idea of touching him.

“You sure you won’t come to the beach house with me?” she asked, suddenly feeling the effect of the alcohol–the flushed cheeks and lowered inhibitions and relaxed muscles.

He didn’t take his eyes off her as she spun in a circle, almost sloshing her drink out of the cup. “Are you inviting me because you feel sorry for me?” he asked, his face serious.

Darcy furrowed her brows. “No, I’d like the company. Plus, you could use a getaway more than I could. How have you not gone crazy in this building?”

“It’s a big building. More freedom than I had for many years.”

She sank her upper teeth into her lower lip as she thought about what he’d said. “I guess you’re right. It _is_ a big building.”

“Why don’t you invite someone else?” he asked.

Darcy was swaying to the music again. “Because I want you. I mean, I want you to come with me. But… I… I understand your situation and whatever. It’s fine. Don’t feel obligated.”

He looked away from her and studied the label on his bottle of beer. Darcy watched him take a drink, his eyebrows drawing together in thought. “I wish I could come, doll,” he finally said, his voice soft and his eyes still on the bottle.

She took a drink and licked the sweetness of the pineapple juice mixed with rum from her lips. “I was going to take one of the cars in the basement. The back windows are tinted. Jane, Tony, and Bruce know I’m going, but none of them know I invited you.” She paused and watched him lift his gaze to her face. “I could keep it that way. Then the only people who would know you’re in the back of the truck would be the people you decide to tell.”

“And once I’m out of the building? All the cameras on traffic lights and toll plazas and businesses?” he asked.

“They wouldn’t pick you up from the back of the truck. I could drive. After I first asked you… Well, I looked into the surveillance in the gated community where Tony’s house is. They have a guard at the gate and cameras there. There isn't any other surveillance inside the community. Tony’s house has cameras, but they’re hooked into the same security system as this building. They’re secure.”

He pulled in a deep breath, his chest expanding and then deflating as he blew a stream of air out his nose. “Why didn’t you tell me you did that?”

She shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed at the lengths she’d gone to in order to convince him to come with her. “I didn’t want you to think I was crazy and obsessive. And you’d already given your answer. I didn’t want to keep pestering you when you obviously didn’t want to come. I mean, a girl’s gotta have some dignity, right?”

He rolled his tongue out to wet his bottom lip and slid his gaze over to the side, looking at nothing in particular. She could tell he was in his own thoughts and bit her tongue so she didn’t say something stupid to fill the silence. Finally, he looked back up at her, catching her gaze. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’ll go.”

“To the beach house with me?” she asked, raising her brows in surprise.

“Yeah. If you still want me to.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Definitely. What… What changed your mind?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You. And Sam says I need to make new memories, better ones. I can’t think of a better way to make good memories than spending a week with you.”

Darcy almost dropped her pina colada and melted right onto her living room floor. “That's some smooth talking you got going on there, dude.”

He smiled up at her. “Ain't nothing smooth about it. Just being honest. I bet a lot of people like being around you. Your friend Jane. Bruce. Tony. Thor. You're just one of those people.”

“One of what people?”

“People who make you feel like you've known them forever even though you ain't. People who make you feel better about yourself and everything else.”

She wanted to climb onto his lap and kiss him silly. Instead, she said, “How do you figure that?”

“Because being around you makes me feel like my life ain't a living hell. Nobody's made me feel that way since… since I got back.”

“But I'm not doing anything,” Darcy protested.

“You are. You've done so much.”

Darcy shook her head. It was rare that she found herself at a loss for words, but she had no idea how to respond to anything he’d just told her. Instead of talking, she knocked back the rest of her pina colada and gave him a smile. He smiled right back with warmth in his eyes that made her feel like he might think she walked on water. No one had ever looked at her quite like that before, like she was the beginning and ending of their everything. It was a heady feeling.

“Do you still want me to go with you?”

“Hell yes, I do.”

“Can I meet you in the vehicle in the garage? I don't want to be seen going down there with you.”

She licked the lingering sweetness of the rum from her lips and said, “Whatever it takes to get you out of the building and on your way to the best week of relaxation ever.”

He chuckled and pushed himself up off the couch. Her beach playlist was still going strong in the background, playing The Beach Boys, one of her dad's favorites. She had a soft spot for those harmonies that reminded her of childhood. She wondered if Bucky liked them as well, but he seemed preoccupied.

“I should let you get back to packing,” he said. Darcy watched him open up the backpack and slip the three notebooks inside.

“Bucky?” she asked. He looked up at her, and she continued with, “Thanks for sharing them with me.”

“I thought you'd kick me out after you read them, not make me go away with you,” he admitted, zipping the bag up.

“The only thing those notebooks did was make me wish I could kick some HYDRA ass for you.”

He looked up at her through his lashes. “Why didn’t they make you afraid of me? Now that you know what I’ve done… what I could do?”

She sat her empty glass down on the coffee table. “Because that wasn’t really you.”

“But it _was_ me.”

“Physically, maybe. But not mentally.”

Bucky lifted the backpack up and hooked one of the straps over his right shoulder. “I could do all those things and worse, you know. If they find me again.”

“I thought that’s why you were talking with Sam, getting those trigger words out in the open.”

“We don’t know if any of that will work. He’s just… guessing.”

Darcy smiled at him. “I’m pretty sure Sam knows what he’s doing, and I don’t think he’s just guessing.”

“Assuming, trying things, whatever. He doesn’t know it will work. No one does.”

She put up her hands, palms facing him. “Okay. I agree. But I’m willing to take the chance. I trust you.”

He dropped his head to focus on the floor. “You shouldn’t. I’m not very trustworthy.”

“Bullshit, Bucky,” she told him as she followed him to the door.

He turned around when he was standing before the exit to the hall. “Look, doll, I’m just saying that maybe you see me in a different way. You don’t see the real me.”

“Have you been faking with me?”

“No, not that,” he said, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “I’ve been honest with you, but if…”

“If you tell me that I don’t know the full story, then you better be prepared to take a punch. I just read your journals. I’ve spent several hours in your company. Unless you’re putting on an act with me, then I think I have a good idea of who you are.”

“Did you just threaten to punch me, doll?” She could see the smile he was trying to suppress. He was doing a poor job of it.

“You bet your ass I did. Stop putting yourself down. I’ll have you know I’m an excellent judge of character, and I think yours is the best.”

His eyes swept over her, from her face down to the hand she’d put on her jutted out hip. When he gave her looks like that, she wanted to slip her arms right around his neck and shove her tongue into his mouth. Turn of the century guys probably didn’t like aggressive women, though. Besides, she wasn’t even sure he was into her in _that_ way. She knew of his ladies man status back in the thirties, but he hadn’t made anything that she could even construe as a move on her. “When are we leaving tomorrow?” Bucky asked when his eyes came back up to meet hers.

“I’m not exactly a morning person, so, like, ten or eleven. Is that too soon for you?”

“No, it’s fine, doll. What vehicle?” He opened the door and turned around to look at her with those gorgeous eyes.

Darcy glanced over her shoulder at the keys on the counter a few feet away. The tag had the parking spot number. “Twenty-eight.”

“See you there at ten?”

She watched him step out into the hall, regretful he wasn’t going to stick around. She was feeling just a little tipsy from the two drinks and his presence. “Yep. Bring your swimming trunks.”

He laughed softly and gave her a quick wave of his hand before he turned and walked down the hallway.

“Hey, I’m not joking. You’re not going to stay in the house the entire time we’re there. I’m dragging your ass into the ocean whether you like it or not.”

“I hear ya, doll,” he replied as he glanced back over his shoulder. The smile playing on his lips made him drop dead gorgeous. Darcy suddenly felt out of her depth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me with wonderful comments. Ya'll are the BEST.
> 
> The song mentioned in this chapter is [Coming Home by Leon Bridges](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3QIHEe3oPsQ). He's an amazing artist with an old soul, and I highly recommend all of this work.


	9. Chapter 9

> _“Are you scared to tell somebody how you feel about somebody? Are you scared to wear your heart out on your sleeve? Are you scared what somebody's ‘gon think? Or… or maybe you, are you scared of me?” - Alabama Shakes (You Ain’t Alone)_

He’d said he would meet her at the black SUV in parking spot twenty-eight in the basement garage, but she still gasped when she opened the back hatch to stow her two bags and found Bucky sitting in the bucket seat behind the passenger seat.

“Holy shit, you scared me,” she said.

Bucky looked like he was going to be ill when he pressed an index finger to his lips. His face was pale and his eyes were worried.

Darcy grimaced and whispered, “Sorry,” before glancing over her shoulders to make sure no one was around. She quickly tossed both her duffle bags into the back and made her way to the driver’s door. “Hey,” she said, scooting up into the seat and closing the door.

“Hey, doll,” he replied.

Turning around, she gave him a once over. He was in those black tactical pants he seemed to favor even though he hadn’t been on a mission or even outside the building in months. His dark blue shirt had long sleeves to cover his shiny vibranium arm, and he had something that looked like a flesh-colored glove on his left hand. An old baseball cap was pulled down low to obscure the upper half of his face, but she could still see the anxiety when he looked up to meet her gaze.

“You seem stressed,” she said.

He huffed out a short laugh. “I am.”

“You don’t have to do this. I don’t want to make you feel like you don’t have a choice,” she said.

“No, I want to. I just… it’s been awhile since I was out, since I was vulnerable to them.”

“But aren’t you always? I mean, they could get into the building if they really wanted.”

He shook his head. “Not without casualties, and the chances of them capturing me with all the security is slim. Out there, though… I feel like a sitting duck out there.”

Darcy tilted her head and smiled. “You’re not a sitting duck. You seem pretty capable of taking care of yourself. Didn’t you do that for a couple years in Bucharest?”

“Yeah, but it was different.”

“Different how?”

“I was living under a fake name, and I was alone.”

“Do you want me to call you something other than Bucky? Frank? Gerald? Bartholomew?”

He laughed softly and dropped his gaze to the carpeted floor of the SUV. “No, doll. I don’t want you to call me Bartholomew. I just don’t want to hurt you if something goes wrong.”

“Nothing is going to go wrong. Plus, you’d never hurt me,” she told him, no room for argument in her statements of what she believed to be fact.

“You sound so sure.”

“I’m sure of you.”

He smiled, but it looked a little sad. “I’m not sure of me.”

“Well, it’s good that I am, then. I’ll be your confidence.”

There was so much warmth in his eyes when he looked up to meet her gaze. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you even giving me the time of day, sweetheart.”

“You were you.” She turned around to face the windshield before she crawled into the back and tried to hug him. “Ready for a mini road trip?”

Bucky pulled in a deep breath and blew it out between his parted lips. “Yeah, doll. Let’s go.”

She pulled out of the parking spot and let the vehicle creep forward to the ramp that would spiral them up and out of the garage. The SUV was a considerably bigger than any car she'd been able to call her own, and the last thing she wanted to do was explain to Tony Stark why she scraped the paint off the bumper while taking Bucky Barnes to crash in the house in the Hamptons. She didn't think Tony wanted to kill Bucky any longer, but she didn't think they were friends either.

She glanced back to crack a joke about her driving, but he gave her a terse nod and said, “Keep your eyes forward, especially when we get out of the garage. Anyone watching can't know you're talking to someone in the back. They need to think you're going alone.”

Darcy furrowed her brows. “Ooookay. Got it. I'm not gonna say you sound a little paranoid, but that's what I'm thinking.”

“I’m not. You don't know these people. They're relentless.”

She felt bad for making light of the situation, especially since last night she'd read details of what they'd done to him. They were horrible, cruel assholes who had used him in the most horrible way. He had every right to be paranoid. “I'm sorry. I… That wasn't… I shouldn't have said that, Bucky. I know this is serious and you want to be safe.”

“Don't beat yourself up, doll. Just keep your eyes on the road and pretend like I'm not here.”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Let's wait until we get out of Manhattan. They might be watching the building.”

She nodded and forced herself to focus her attention on the spiraling ramp as it wound her up three stories and eventually opened up into a wide alley that was used to service the building. Pulling out into traffic, she fiddled with the radio, hyper-aware of her movements and actions. What if someone _was_ watching? What if he was right? What if being in the same vehicle as him put her in danger, stuck a target on her back? Well, he'd keep her safe, of course. Of course.

When she finally weaved her way out of the congested traffic of Midtown by following the GPS instructions, she finally exhaled. “I hate traffic,” she muttered more to herself than Bucky.

“And yet you live in a city full of it,” he replied. “Why New York?”

“It's where Jane is right now, and she needs me. Or at least I think she does. I don't know sometimes. I guess… I don't have a better place to be. I just can't imagine going back to Florida and living with my parents and getting a real job. Not after all this shit I've seen.”

“What have you seen?” he asked.

She merged into traffic and said, “Crazy shit. Nothing that would hold a candle to what you've seen, though. One time these massive and fat worm things from space busted through some cosmic door and almost ate me. Like, I legit almost died.”

“Don't that make you wanna get outta this life?”

“Nope. A regular old life is overrated. I’d feel trapped, probably.” She glanced into the rear view mirror and smiled. “Plus, I wouldn't get to hang out with you. You're worth a little life endangerment.”

He just shook his head in disagreement. “Doll, you're sick in the head if you believe that.”

“Call a doctor, then,” she shot back. She drove in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the tires on the road beneath them and the low volume of the radio. Finally, she said, “Who did you tell about coming with me?”

“Steve. Sam.”

“Sam was in favor?”

“He was,” Bucky replied. “Steve was not.”

That surprised Darcy. She'd assumed Steve would be anxious to see his friend try to regain a normal life, or at least try to. Not that a week at the shore with her was normal life, but it was definitely better than being cooped up inside a building in Manhattan. “Am I not Captain America approved?” she asked.

“It ain't you. It's me. He's afraid of what I'm afraid of.”

“HYDRA recapturing you,” Darcy stated rather than asked. “Why doesn't Sam think this is a bad idea?”

Bucky sighed. “He thinks I'll be okay. He thinks you're good for me.”

“I'm usually the bad influence.”

Chuckling softly, he said, “You're a good influence. Trust me.”

“I do. Trust you, that is.”

“Don't trust me that much, doll.” He was silent a moment before he said, “Steve wanted to come with us.”

Her brows shot right up into her hairline. “Yeah?”

“I told him no because I figured you'd ditch me for him.” He laughed, and she joined him.

Smiling and glancing into the rearview mirror, she said, “You're more my type. I'm glad you gave him the boot because I don't know if I can behave myself enough to meet the stringent standards of Captain America.”

“You ain't learned nothing from my stories, doll? Steve is the biggest rule breaker there ever was.”

She laughed at the idea of a rogue Captain America. “How many more words do you have left to talk to Sam about? Two?”

“Two,” he confirmed. “But it's you I'm talking to, not Sam.”

“What do you mean? They're part of your therapy sessions with Sam.”

“It was always you I was talking to, even before you came into the room.”

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, but nothing would come out. “Me?”she finally asked.

“Sure. It was always you. I knew you were hiding in the kitchen that first day. You're the reason I agreed.”

“But, but… I thought you agreed because you thought it might help you,” she sputtered.

“I want it to help me,” Bucky agreed. “I don't really know if it will. But… I'd seen you before and you seemed so… You seemed so nice and warm and kind and… funny. You… I wanted to say hi to you, but I didn't know how. And then Sam was telling me that I needed to talk. And you were there, so I just… talked to you. It was easier because I didn't have to look you in the eye. You made it easy by hiding.”

“I thought I was being a sneaky asshole,” she admitted.

He chuckled. “No, doll. I knew the whole time. It was always for you.”

She was speechless again, and she could feel the burn of a blush high on her cheeks. “I still shouldn't have done it.”

“Probably not, but… I… I’m glad you did. Maybe that's fucked up, but… I am.”

After almost a minute she said, “Well, if you were always talking to me, the why don't you tell me about the next word.”

“Now?”

“We've got over an hour to go. Lay it on me.”

She heard him shift in his seat and clear his throat. “Well, okay. I guess I could.”

“What’s the word?”

“One.”

She opened her mouth to repeat it, and then remember what he’d told Sam. He didn’t really like to hear other people say those words.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said, sensing that she’d cut herself off. “You can say it.”

“But you said you didn’t want–”

“Don’t mind you saying it,” he said. “It’s fine. I trust you, too.”

“It makes you uncomfortable,” she replied.

Bucky's sighed. “Yeah, well, a lot makes me uncomfortable. If I don’t start dealing with it, then it’ll never get any better.” He paused and then said, “Say it.”

“One.”

She glanced into the mirror and locked gazes with him without turning around. “So, one is… It’s a shitty one,” he warned.

“Well, to be fair, they all sound kinda shitty.”

He laughed softly under his breath before saying, “Yeah. But this one makes me feel like a I’m a worthless piece of shit.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she told him.

Bucky was silent for a moment before clearing his throat and beginning. “So, I was deployed to England. I had already gotten my rank as sergeant, and I was responsible for eleven guys. We were young, a couple of the kids were eighteen, most were nineteen or twenty. The oldest guy was twenty-six.”

“Wow,” Darcy said. She was older than all of them. Thinking of fighting in a war when she’d been eighteen wasn’t something that even made sense in her brain. It was just too young be able to to understand anything about what war was.

“Yeah, we were all young. I was… barely twenty-five. I didn’t know what the hell I was getting myself into; I just knew I wanted to help. I wanted to take down the Nazis. Thought it’d be a piece of cake, you know. I’d always been good at whatever I wanted to do, figured this couldn’t be much different than winning a football game or boxing match or whatever. But with guns, I guess. With bullets and blood. All that was just… vague, unreal.”

In that moment when he’d paused, she said, “Well, that makes sense. I think you said before that no one can prepare you for war. You’re right.”

“Yeah, it got real pretty quickly. From England we shipped out to a base in northern France and then to the front lines. I… I’d never seen anything like what we saw then. It was… I don’t know. Terrible. These kids under me, they didn’t know any better than me what they’d gotten themselves into. They were scared shitless. I made them a promise that first night that we’d all get out of there, that I wouldn’t lose a single one of them.”

Darcy heart felt heavy. She knew he’d not been able to keep that promise. She knew from history textbooks and countless documentaries that the one hundred seventh sustained crushing losses in nineteen forty-two. She suspected that those original eleven men didn’t even make it to that point unscathed.

Bucky sighed. “I shouldn’t have said it, but… we were all messed up in the head over what was happening around us. I’d _lived_ with those guys for so long. We ate together, slept together, fought together, spent every fucking moment together. I wasn’t about to let any of them just die on me. They had moms and girls to get back to in the States.”

“Who was the one?” she asked when he didn’t continue immediately.

She glanced in the mirror and saw Bucky shake his head. His gaze was on the seat in front of him, not on her reflection. “His name was Robert Danview. He’d just turned twenty a week before. We’d slapped a scoop of the driest mashed potatoes you’d ever see on a plate and lit a twig that we stuck in the top. Told it is was a damn birthday cake, and we all had a laugh.”

Darcy chuckled, and he joined her in laughter after a moment.

“We were under heavy fire after engaging a Nazi outpost. The weather was fucking horrible. Hot, humid, we could barely breathe down in those trenches. It rained everyday,sometimes buckets and other times just a steady downpour. The mud was thick and everywhere. It dried on our clothes and our hands like clay. Danview had this girl back home; I think her name was… Clara or Claire or something like that. Shit, I can’t even remember now. He was convinced he was saving the world for her, that he was gonna come back some hero. By then we’d been in it for a month. The real bad shit was still months ahead, but all of us had given up on the dream of being the hero. We were just… trying to survive, make it out of Europe with most of our limbs. Not Danview, though. He was fightin’ the Nazis for Claire, Clara, Clarice, whatever.”

“What happened to him?”

“We were low on ammo. I was going to make a run back behind our front line to get some, but I thought I could be more use with my rifle. I was a better shot than most of the guys. It just… came natural. So, I told Danview to get his ass back there and grab a can of ammo.”

Bucky got quiet, and Darcy looked into the mirror to find his head bowed. She couldn’t see anything but the baseball cap. Instead of prodding him, she waited out his silence.

Finally, he said, “Danview got up and said, ‘Sure thing, Sarge,’ before he hopped out of the trench. He got hit in the back with a bullet a second later. Didn’t even have time to take a fucking step. I watched him fall on his face, but I couldn’t do shit because we were getting sprayed with rounds. I saw one hit the dirt less than a foot from my head. By the time things cooled down enough for me to crawl over to him, his breathing was fucked. Just… messed up like he had water in his lungs. It was blood, of course. I could see it on his tongue and coming out the corner of his mouth when he’d cough or wheeze. I called for a medic, but too much was going on. I sat there with him–” Bucky cut himself off in what felt like mid-sentence.

She glanced back again and saw him curling into himself, his chin on his chest, his shoulders pulling forward and inward like he wanted to make himself small enough to disappear. Darcy felt sick to her stomach with a heavy heart.

When Bucky spoke up again, his voice was soft and barely more than a whisper. “I sat there with him while he died. I can still remember exactly what his eyes looked like. They were huge and glassy and so fuckin’ scared. He knew he was dying and there wasn’t anything we could do to stop it. He knew I was a fuckin’ liar when I promised all of them we’d get home together, that not one of them would die.”

“You were trying to comfort them, Bucky,” she reasoned.

“They _believed_ me. They _trusted_ me. You say you trust me, but you shouldn’t. Don’t you see why you shouldn’t?”

“Bucky, they might have been young, but I doubt they were stupid. They knew the risk, especially after fighting for months. They knew you were trying to comfort them. You can’t blame yourself; you did everything you could.”

“I’m the one who told him to get up and get the can of ammo,” he said in a flat voice.

“But you’re not the one who fired the shot.”

He lifted his head and looked at her reflection in the mirror. “Might as well have.”

She sighed and turned her gaze back to the road. “This doesn’t change what I think of you. It doesn’t change that I trust you.”

“You’re crazy, doll. You know that?”

She gave him a forced smile that felt like a grimace. “I’ve been told that a time or two before.”

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

He insisted she take the master bedroom. It was massive, just like the house, with a private balcony that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. By the time they arrived at the house just after noon, the sun had disappeared behind the clouds and Bucky was anxious all over again. He’d grabbed his small army green bag from between his feet and snatched her two bags out of the back of the SUV before she’d even had a chance to slide her ass out of the drivers seat. Darcy had hurried after him to unlock the door and plug in the security code–Pepper Potts’ hire date. She’d shaken her head and mumbled something to Bucky about how nice it must be to have someone love you so much they remembered the date you came into their life and make it the only thing that would disarm your alarm system.

After their short argument over who deserved the master bedroom more, Bucky had disappeared and dropped his bag on a bed down the hall. The room was small with one window that looked to the west. It’d taken her a moment to realize what he was doing, and he’d confirmed it when she’d asked if he picked the room because he could see the road leading up the house from it’s only window. That he still thought this way even though there was no threat made Darcy sad for him.

When he’d started searching the drawers and rigging what appeared to be booby traps that would alert them to an intruder, Darcy had checked out and told him she was going to the grocery store to pick up supplies. He’d not paid much attention to her after arriving at the house because all his mind seemed to be focused on potential threats or holes in security. Years ago to meet the course requirements for a sociology class, she’d volunteered at a halfway house that specialized in veterans with PTSD. Some of his actions and obsessive focus reminded her of the people she’d met in that program.

Darcy assumed a super soldier ate a lot and bought accordingly. Jane had said she saw Steve Rogers go plate for plate with Thor one time. And Thor ate _massive amounts_. She hoped that the five brown paper bags in the back of the vehicle would feed the two of them for a few days. When she pulled into the circular drive and parked right in front of the door, Bucky walked out, his eyes darting this way and that.

“No one followed me. I promise,” she told him, walking around to the back of the vehicle. “I’m boring.”

He opened the back of the vehicle and scooped up four of the bags without saying a word. Darcy just shook her head and picked up the last one before shutting the SUV up and locking it.

“Are you okay?” she asked, walking into the spacious kitchen outfitted with black granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. Very Tony Stark, but not very beach house-y.

“Just nervous,” he replied, unpacking one of the bags and putting everything on the counter.

She walked over and stilled his hands by placing hers on top of them when he sat a bag of mangos on the counter. His eyes glanced up at her, wide and anxious. “Go sit down. I’ll unpack,” she told him.

The smooth metal of his left hand felt strange as he pulled away from her. “I’m sorry, doll.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I am. You came here to enjoy yourself, and I’m ruining it.”

Darcy spun around to stow some items in the empty fridge. “You’re not ruining anything. Just take a deep breath. If they knew you were here, then they’d have made a move by now, right? I mean, you were here alone for an hour while I was at the grocery store. They could have nabbed you out in the driveway just now while your arms were full. You’re _safe_.”

“I’m never safe. I’m always a target or a threat,” Bucky replied, slipping up onto a stool and watching her finish emptying the paper bags.

“Not with me, you aren’t.” She finished putting away the food before saying, “Come on.”

He spun around on the stool to watch her walk around him toward the open living area. The wall facing the beach was almost entirely glass even with the vaulted ceilings. A door with delicate glass panes was flanked by the floor to ceiling windows.

“Come with me to check out the ocean,” she said. The afternoon sun was trying to come out from behind a thick layer of clouds.

She pulled open the doors and walked out on the concrete patio with it’s low wall. When she walked up to the edge, she could see the sandy beach below and the waves rhythmically lapping against the shore. She’d never really be a beach-goer, but there was something to say for the salty smell of the ocean. It reminded her of something she’d read years ago.

“Supposedly, the salty air has negative ions that lower your blood pressure,” she said when she heard Bucky walk up behind her.

“I don’t know about that,” he said just a couple feet away.

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed. “I think it was on Pinterest, which is not exactly Scientific American or anything. Maybe it’s the sound of the waves.” She turned to look at him and found him standing closer than she’d realized with the baseball cap pulled down low. He was still in the long-sleeve shirt, but had removed the flesh-colored glove sometime while she’d been shopping.

“I think it’s the sound. I always did like the sound of the ocean,” he said, looking down at her.

There were a line of adirondack chairs lined up to her left, right up against the low wall. “Let’s sit down and relax then.”

He followed her over and sat down next to her. Their chairs were close enough that she could have reached out and held his left hand. She didn’t, though. He was using it to clench the wooden arm of the chair. Darcy wondered if he’d crack it. After a long moment, he let up and gave a deep sigh before leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “I’m trying, doll,” he murmured.

She barely heard him over the lapping waves. “I know you are, but you don’t have to try so hard. I know this is difficult for you. I mean, you’ve been cooped up in the building for months. Give yourself a day or two to adjust.”

“I don’t want to ruin your vacation.”

She looked over and smiled at him. “You’re not. You’re keeping me company.”

“You don't need to spend your time worrying about me,” he said, rolling his head over so when he opened his eyes he could see her. Her instinct was to reach out and cup his cheek with her hand, but she suppressed it.

“I'm not worried about you. You can take care of yourself _and_ me if you want to.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he agreed before closing his eyes and turning his head away. “I'm sorry. I… that wasn't… I mean, I don't want you to…” He laughed under his breath and shook his head. “I don't know how to talk to you sometimes. Ignore me.”

“Dude, I am the head of the foot in the mouth committee on regretful verbal diarrhea. I feel your pain,” she replied, trying not to read too much into his comment about doing anything for her.

Bucky glanced over at her again. “You? You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

“Dumb luck,” she said with a wink.

He inhaled deeply as he cast his gaze out over the water. Darcy watched his chest fill out and rise up before smoothly deflating as he exhaled a stream of air from his parted lips. “Thank you for asking me again.”

“Asking you what?”

“To come with you. I'm glad I'm here. I… need this. I know I need to try to get better.”

“You're perfect,” she replied without thinking, the truth of it plain as day.

“You're crazy,” he said.

She laughed. “You've already accused me of that.”

“You're also perfect. I wish I would have known you back when… back when I was fun.”

Darcy kicked her feet up to rest them on the low wall. She had on a pair of gold flip-flops that showed off her bright red toenails. “Me? In the thirties? I'd cause a scandal.”

He chuckled. “You would have. Probably turn more than a few heads.”

“Your head?”

He didn't look at her when he said, “Yeah. Then and now.”

“Huh,” she mused, watching the clouds start to burn up and dissipate from the heat of the sun. “The downside to knowing you when you were fun is that I’d be dead now.”

“True.”

“Also, I kinda like this version of you. I don't know if debonair Bucky is my kind of guy.”

He just shook his head and kept his eyes focused on the horizon. Darcy closed her eyes and listened to the waves as she thought about the man next to her and how she’d managed to fall this hard, this fast.


	10. Chapter 10

> _“Nothing is ever as good as it was. And what's good for your soul will be bad on your nerves if you reverse it. It's bound to melt your heart one way or another. It's bound to melt your heart for good or for bad.” - Jenny Lewis (Melt Your Heart)_

She made spinach and cheese stuffed chicken breasts with some rice for dinner. Secretly, Darcy worried that she would run out of recipes if Bucky decided to stick around. She liked cooking and knew she was better than most people who didn’t have an interest, but she also wasn’t a seasoned gourmet chef who had a long list of dishes she was comfortable making for a guest she’d like to impress. Bucky’s enthusiasm when it came to her homemade food made Darcy want to take a cooking class when they got back to the City.

She toyed with asking him if he wanted to go with her. She’d always thought those cooking classes for couples on a date would be fun. The problem was that Bucky wasn’t dating her, and even if he was interested, she didn’t think he’d be willing to step outside Tony Stark’s building to learn how to make risotto. He was damn near panic attack levels just spending a weekend locked away in a beach house in a gated community of rich assholes.

They ate dinner at a small table in the kitchen with the windows open and the smell of the ocean mixing with the scent of the food. Every other thing out of Bucky’s mouth was praise for her cooking skills. She was starting to get self-conscious and embarrassed because he was laying it on a little too thick.

During a lull in conversation, she said, “How do you feel?”

He looked up, lowering his fork to the plate. “What do you mean?”

“Like right now. How do you feel? You seemed pretty anxious when we got here.”

“I’m fine,” he said, turning his gaze back down to the few bites of food left on his plate.

Darcy rolled her eyes, but he didn’t see it. “Look, I’m not Sam. I don’t have any experience doing the therapist thing, but I legit care about whether you’re okay. Are you okay?”

Bucky took a sip from his glass of white wine. It was a bottle she’d borrowed from Tony. It wouldn’t be missed. “I’m fine, doll. I’m… I’m trying for you, and it’s not so hard. I’m just nervous about what could happen if HYDRA can track me. You’re right; it’s a long shot. There isn’t any link between you and I, and if they were surveilling the building, they’d only see you leave. I know. Paranoia is just a hard habit to break, especially when I’ve been right about it before.”

“Right about what?”

“People coming for me. Hell, back when Steve tracked me down in Bucharest, I knew it was coming. I’d been there for almost two years and every day I thought the other shoe was gonna drop. I put my journals in that backpack and hid it under the floorboards. I planned escape routes, how I’d leave if my location was compromised.”

“Did it work?”

“Would have if it hadn’t been Steve who found me. Well, Steve and T’Challa. Anyone else, I probably could have gotten away. The special forces team they sent in to capture me for the bombing they pinned on me, I could have shaken them no problem.” He snorted out a harsh laugh. “But not Steve. He’s like a dog with a bone sometimes. Relentless.”

“That’s when you were captured again.” It was a statement because she knew the story. Or at least, she knew what had been told to her by Tony and Clint, both of whom hadn’t even been there when Bucky had been captured.

“They weren’t fuckin’ around,” he told her. “Full restraints and in a bubble so there wasn’t anything I could do to escape even if I wanted to.”

“What happened?”

“Some guy with a grudge over Sokovia got ahold of the triggers and took over my head. Had me take out everyone guarding me. Steve and Sam tracked me down and detained me until… until I could get back to myself.” He wouldn't look at her, keeping his eyes firmly on his plate.

Darcy cleared her throat and said, “You eventually come back?”

“I guess. I mean, I did that time. Hell, doll, I really don’t know. Ain't like I've been runnin’ tests.” Bucky looked up to meet her eyes. “I don't wanna find out. It's such a… It's horrible to come to and not know who you killed, having it hit you in flashes that are all jumbled. It's…”

“A violation,” she said, completing the sentence he'd stalled out on.

“Yeah, a violation,” Bucky agreed.

When it was clear he'd eaten his fill, she stacked his nearly empty plate on top of hers and said, “Sam is a smart guy. He knows what he's doing. You'll be free of those triggers one day. Maybe not today, but one day.”

She stood with the plates in her hand. Bucky looked up at her, wide-eyed and full of sincerity. “You've got a lot of faith in me.”

“No reason not to have faith in you.”

“You read those notebooks. How could you after reading them?”

“How could I _not_ after reading them? Despite all that you're still one of the best people I've ever met.” She turned and walked into the kitchen.

Bucky followed her. “One of the best people? Doll, I'm definitely not that.”

“Bucky, you definitely are.” She sat the plates in the sink and said, “Let's go finish the booze on the patio.”

He grabbed the half-full bottle of wine while she slipped the little flask she'd stashed in the cupboard into her palm. “What's that?” Bucky asked.

She grinned and walked over to the table, picking up her wine glass. “Remember I said that I know a guy?”

He followed her outside and filled her wine glass when she sat it down on the low wall. “Did you bring Asgardian hooch?” he asked while he shook his head at her in disbelief.

“Wanna get drunk?”

He laughed. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Be bad for once.” She watched the wind coming off the ocean plaster his shirt against his chest and sweep a lock of hair across his forehead.

He raised his brows and absently brushed the hair back. “For once?”

“Yeah. You've been Mr. Repressed since we met. Cut loose. Have a drink. Who knows? Maybe it won't do anything for you.” Darcy held up the flask and waved it in front of his face.

He sat the bottle of wine down and looked at her, hands on his hips. “It's a bad idea. I need to be prepared for–”

“Boring. Live a little,” she said, interrupting him. “Just a swig. Just to see what it'll do.” He looked like he was actually considering it.

After a long moment, he reached out and took the flask. Darcy let a grin spread across her face. “Yay. Be irresponsible. Have fun.”

Bucky glanced up at her through his lashes as he unscrewed the cap. He was smiling, and the devilish look was enough to flood her panties. “You're nothing but temptation,” he accused.

“I'm way more than just temptation.”

He sniff the contents. “You're right. You're that and more.”

Darcy watched him lift the flask to his lips and tilt his head back for a quick swig. He swallowed and winced, eyes squinting and the corners of his mouth pulling back in a grimace. “Ugh,” he muttered, pressing the back of his left hand to his mouth as he held the flask back out to her.

“That bad?” she asked, taking the metal container.

“Strong,” he replied with a shake of his head.

The wind whipped her hair into her face, and she used her free hand to push it back. When she looked back up at him, he was watching her so intently. “Should I have a taste? Thor said it would knock me on my ass.”

Bucky shrugged.

“Maybe just a drop,” she decided, pressing the tip of her index finger against the mouth of the flask. Tipping the container, she wet the pad of her finger and brought that up to her lips. She could see the jump of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. His eyes looked just a little glassy, and his tongue rolled over his bottom lip as she licked her fingertip. The taste was just a little sweet on her tongue, but when she swallowed, her throat burned. “Yikes,” she told Bucky. “It _is_ strong.” She tipped the flask to wet her fingertip again and popped her index finger in her mouth.

There was heat in his eyes when she looked up at him. It was something she’d never seen before.

“Are you drunk?” she asked.

“Uh, maybe.” He turned away from her with what looked like considerable effort. “Probably,” he added. “It feels so strange, but also familiar.”

“I feel like I’ve had five glasses of wine, but I’ve only had two drops of this stuff.” She held the flask out to his turned back. “Do you want more?”

Bucky turned around and shook his head. “No. I’ll end up doing something stupid if I have more.”

She felt giddy. “Drink more. Do something stupid.”

He laughed and walked away from her, looking out over the ocean. “No way. That one swig was enough. I’m… it’s been so long since I’ve felt this way. I… I like it, but I don’t.”

“Do you feel a little out of control?” she asked, walking up to stand behind him.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Darcy thought back to those notebooks and his stories, the way he’d been erased and made to do things against his nature. “I’m sorry,” she said, frowning. “I didn’t think. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. You probably don’t like feeling out of control like–”

He turned around and looked down at her, only a few inches away, close enough she could feel the heat of his body. “No, this is different. It’s okay. It’s... “ Bucky shook his head.

The wind hit her from the side and blew her hair into her face again. Before she could lift her free hand to tuck it behind her ear, he’d already threaded the fingers of his right hand into the strands and pushed them back so he could make out her features. “Thanks,” she whispered, eyes wide and breath caught in her throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured softly, his lips barely moving to form the words.

Darcy was pretty sure her heart had stopped beating. His right hand was warm, radiating heat against her ear, his fingertips laid lightly against her scalp. “And you're drunk,” she added with a grin.

“Not that drunk. Just drunk enough…”

“Drunk enough for what?”

“Drunk enough to tell the truth,” he admitted, letting his hand slide out if her hair and graze against the side of her neck.

Darcy swallowed hard and tried to quiet the racket in her head, tried to suppress those instincts that were screaming at her to kiss him senseless. “Real smooth, Bucky,” she whispered.

He gave her a grin that was more self-deprecating than anything. “You must have me confused with another Bucky that knows how to talk to pretty girls.”

“Hush your mouth,” Darcy told him. “I feel like I've had an entire bottle of wine right now, and I cannot be held responsible for my actions if you keep flirting with me. Besides, I took a World War class in undergrad. Pretty sure you knew how to talk to girls back in the day.”

“Not anymore. Just you now.”

“Just me, huh? You sound disappointed, like you've gotta settle.”

His fingertips brushed over her shoulder and down her arm, lingering at her wrist as it rested against her thigh. She had goosebumps all over the skin he'd touched. “Ain't disappointed, and I definitely ain’t settling,” he told her.

Darcy opened her mouth to reply, but his tongue flicked out to wet his lips and all coherent thought fled from her mind. She felt herself leaning into him just slightly, her weight shifting more toward her toes than her heels. His eyes were such a gorgeous blue, almost grey with the way the light from the house was hitting them. His lips were parted and the pink of his lower one was wet from the swipe of his tongue. The light touch of his fingertips against the skin of her wrist felt like a brand.

“You gonna kiss me, already?” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

With her chin lifted, so ready for the press of his mouth, she watched Bucky close his eyes and tilt his head back. The move exposed his neck to her, and she could see the rough stubble creeping from his jawline down his neck a bit. He swallowed and she watched the contractions of the muscles in his throat. So maybe he wasn’t going to kiss her. Why was he standing so close, gazing at her like he’d been, telling her the things he’d said? Why would he do that and then look away?

“Bucky?” she asked, turning the hand he was touching around so she could interlock her fingers with his. His jaw tightened and he gently pulled away from her and took a step back. His left hand was balled into a fist, the vibranium fingers curled into his palm as if they were actual flesh. “Bucky?” she tried again.

He sighed and finally leveled his head and opened his eyes. “I’m drunk and out of line. I don’t like this feeling. I don’t like… I feel like I’m out of control.”

“But you’re okay,” she rushed to assure him, reaching out a hand that he evaded by taking another step back, this one stumbling and off balance. “I don’t mind. I want you to… I mean, I _want_ you close like that. You’re not…”

“It’s making me do it, though.”

She felt her stomach drop when she realized her good-natured attempt to get him to lighten up had just thrown him back into that feeling where he didn’t have control. “Oh,” Darcy said. “Oh, I’m… I’m sorry, Bucky. I… I didn’t think. I mean…” She tried to ignore the way her heart was breaking. “I’m sorry. I was stupid.”

“Not your fault.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I just… don’t want to be like this. I want the control. Should have known.”

“I…” She searched her brain for something she could do to make it go away. Food, perhaps? “I’ll make you something to eat. It’ll help you sober up faster. I mean, I don’t know how much you drank and how fast your body will metabolise Thor’s meade. I just had two drops and I feel like I chugged a bottle of wine. Everything is a little fuzzy around the edges, you know. God, I’m so stupid. I’m so sorry, Bucky.” She was rambling, but she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth.

He shook his head and held out a hand. “No, it’s not your fault, doll. I… I need to go.”

“Don’t go,” she replied right away. “You can’t leave, not like this.”

“No, go up to my room. I… I can’t be around you right now.”

If her heart hadn’t already broken when he pulled away from her, then it was good and shattered now. “Oh,” she said softly. “I… see.”

Bucky backed away a step. “No, you don’t see. It’s not that I don’t want to be here with you. I just… I’m being selfish. Doll, you don’t want to get mixed up with me like this.”

“Mixed up with you? I’m already mixed up with you.”

“You’re drunk. I’m drunk. I can’t think straight when you’re standin’ there in front of me like you are. I can’t stay out here with you when I’m feeling like this or I’ll do something so fuckin’ stupid. So stupid. I need you to be my friend, doll.”

“I _am_ your friend.”

“I don’t want to fuck that up,” he said, taking another step back.

“You don’t want more?” she asked.

“Ain’t about what I want,” he replied with a shake of his head.

Darcy watched him turn his back on her and walk away. The slightly raised frame of the door almost tripped him up as the toe of his boot hit against his. Bucky caught himself with his right hand on the wall. She watched him pause and recover his balance which was obviously wrecked from the Asgardian mead she’d talked him into drinking. She regretted it now. It had been a mistake giving something that inhibits your control to someone who has spent years out of control of his own life. Poor fucking judgement.

With a heavy heart, she cleaned up after their dinner and went to bed early. The door to the bedroom he’d picked was shut and probably locked. She didn’t blame him, but she wished he’d talk to her. Darcy had developed so many ideas and fantasies of what this week with him would be like. She’d wanted to give him time to relax and take a breath. She’d wanted to see him happy and smiling and enjoying himself. She’d wanted to make his life better, even if it was only for a few days. None of what had happened since they’d arrived that afternoon had been her intention. Not the paranoia and the anxiety as he booby-trapped the entrances while she’d shopped for food she wasn’t sure he’d even eat. And definitely not the tortured way he’d look at her when he’d realized just how much he disliked the feeling of being drunk and out of control.

She lied down in bed early that night and tried so hard not to think of him sleeping just a few yards away. She also tried not to think about what he’d said to her before and after he’d pulled away, tried not to consider all the jumbled emotions he made bubble to the surface of her consciousness. It was clear he didn’t want more than a friendship with her, or at least that was the way it seemed. Darcy wasn’t sure how she felt about that since she’d been having more-than-friendly feelings toward him for quite some time. As she slipped off into unconsciousness, she decided that he needed to choose for himself, and she’d do her best to respect his choice, even if it broke her heart into two pathetic pieces.

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The pool and the narrow concrete pad around it were three steps below the main patio. When Bucky hadn't come down for breakfast, she’d decided to give him space and make the best of her time at Tony’s house. She put on her blue bikini with the high-waisted bottoms and halter top that her tits barely fit inside of and went for a swim. It looked cute and if Bucky decided to grace her with his presence, then she’d like him to feel just a little bit disappointed that he’d turned her down last night.

The water in the pool was warm, and swimming laps up and down the length of it felt amazing. She couldn’t see the ocean from the water, but she could hear the waves lapping against the shore just a few yards away. Darcy sighed and let herself lean back into the water. The buoyancy of her body allow her to float across the surface on her back. She closed her eyes against the bright mid-morning sun and spread her arms out to the sides, enjoying the feeling of being weightless.

When the soles of her feet touched the far end of the pool, she flipped up and treaded water in the eight foot deep water. She almost audibly gasped when she found Bucky squatted down by the edge of the pool. His eyes were on her, steady and intense.

“Hi,” she said, moving over to where he was.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted last night,” he said softly when she placed her forearms on the tile lining the edges of the pool.

“No big deal,” she said, trying to sound like she didn't care when she most certainly did.

He gave her a little smile, just a slight lift of the corners of his mouth. “I learned a lesson.”

“What’s that?”

“That I shouldn't drink. Messed my head up.”

“Happens to the best of us,” she replied. So it was gonna be like that. They were just going to blame Thor’s extra strength booze and pretend like that almost kiss never happened.

He watched her for a long moment, his eyes studying her face. Darcy hoped she was pulling off ambivalence. Something told her she wasn't, though.

“Why are you wearing sweats?” she asked to distract him. “It's almost eighty degrees and sunny. Get your trunks on.”

“Don’t have any,” Bucky replied.

Darcy snorted and pushed herself away from the edge, treading water a few feet away from him. “You can swim in your boxers. No one but me around, and I don't mind.” She lifted and lowered her brows comically.

When he smiled this time it was bigger, crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes. “I'm shy.”

“Yeah, I got that vibe from you. I'll cover my eyes until you get in.”

“I shouldn't.”

Darcy turned away from him and kicked her feet out as she pulled water toward her with cupped hands. When she righted herself, he was walking along the side of the pool with her as she swam. “Oh, I get it. Afraid your left arm will rust, right?” she taunted.

“It’s vibranium,” he replied.

“So then why aren’t you stripping?”

“Doll, I didn't come here to swim.”

She pushed the wet tendrils of her hair off her chest and behind her shoulders. His eyes tracked her movements before he realized he was staring at her chest. Men. So easy. “What'd you come here for, then?”

“To spend time with you.”

His answer irritated her, even though she knew it wasn't fair to expect too much of him. Before she could reconsider, she said, “Huh. That's funny. We were spending time together last night before you locked yourself in your bedroom.”

“I… I was drunk. I didn't like the loss of control. Maybe I didn't explain myself well, but I needed–”

“It's okay, Bucky,” she said, interrupting him. “That was a shitty thing for me to say when I know you're trying and when I know those words aren't the only things that trigger bad shit for you.”

He sat down by the edge and pulled the gray sweatpants up until the cuffs were at his knees. “It wasn't the same loss of control, but… I didn't like it. Brought back some of those same feelings.”

“Only booze for mere mortals, then. None of that alcohol of the gods.” She swam closer as he lowered his feet into the water.

“Just beer or wine when I have dinner with you,” he replied.

The offhand remark made her heart leap into her throat and flutter there like an excited bird. “Dinner with me, huh?”

Bucky nodded down at her when she grabbed the edge by his leg to hold herself up next to him. “I’m hoping I didn't put my foot too far in my mouth last night and you'll still let me have dinner with you now and then.”

“Ahh, I see. You just want me for my mad cooking skills.”

“Mad cooking skills?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “My amazing cooking abilities.”

He returned her smile, and it made her heart skip a beat. “No, I just like spending time with you. The mad cooking skills are an unexpected perk.”

“Look at you being all smooth as fuck again,” she told him.

He shook his head and looked away like he was some sweet kid who had just been embarrassed by a compliment. It was endearing and made her want him all that much more.

“Seriously, dude. You cannot come to the beach and not swim. Wait, you _can_ swim, right?”

He kicked a leg out and splashed water in her direction. “Sure, I can swim.”

“Then get your ass in here. I'll close my eyes while you strip.”

“I ain't skinny dippin’.”

“First, that's a damn shame. Second, I didn't say you should. Keep your undies on.”

He narrowed his eyes in a show of consideration as he looked down at her. She'd pushed off the side and was floating away on her back. When she righted herself again, he'd stood up.

“I'd argue about the swimming in underwear thing, but it looks like that's what you're doing,” Bucky said, pulling his shirt over his head.

Darcy swallowed and tried to keep her jaw from dropping. “This is a swimsuit, I'll have you know. My undies are much more risqué, less material and lots of see-through lace.”

His jaw tightened, and he said, “Good thing you're not swimming in them, then. This is about all my brain can handle.”

“I thought you were done flirting with me after last night,” she said.

“Hard habit to break. You make me feel like my old self sometimes.”

“You should let him come out and play more often.”

He smiled and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants. “That's the goal.”

Darcy had meant to turn away and give him some privacy to take his pants off, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the little strip tease going on just a few feet away. He stepped out of the pants, and she could see that he had a pair of gray boxer briefs on that fit him like a second skin.

“Holy macaroni,” she muttered, trying to will away the hot flush spreading across her pale cheeks.

“The scars are from when I lost my arm after the fall,” he told her, misunderstanding her comment.

Darcy laughed as she rested an arm on the opposite edge of the pool. “The exclamation was in reference to your hot bod, not your scars, Bucky.”

He looked down at himself and then over at her. “Oh. Uh, okay. Thanks?”

Darcy chuckled. “You know, I was depending on you to be the smooth one here and make this less awkward. You sound like me accepting a compliment.”

“You’re showing a lot of skin and telling me you like my body. I'm entitled to be…” He trailed off, unable to find the right word.

“Flustered?” she asked as he sat down at the edge of the pool and put his legs in again. “Did I get you a little flustered, Bucky?” Darcy taunted.

He lifted himself up just enough to slip into the water. “Don't tease me or I'll make you pay,” he warned.

“What are you gonna do, old man? You already told me that you’d never, ever hurt me because you’re such a nice guy.” Darcy smile at him, using a hand over her brow to shade her eyes from the glare of the sun on the water.

Bucky shook his head before pushing off the wall and swimming toward her. She hadn’t meant to let out the shriek that she did when she turn and started swimming away. He was fast, though, and caught up with her quickly. Expecting to be pulled under the surface like she’d done as a kid when playing with friends at pool parties, she sucked in a deep breath when she felt his cybernetic arm slip around her waist.

Bucky didn’t pull her under, though. He pulled her back against his warm body, using his free hand to keep them afloat. Feeling giddy, Darcy laughed and kicked her feet to help him. “Is this punishment for teasing you? Because if it is, then I need to tease you more.”

“Hush,” he said, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear.

Her ass fit right up against his crotch, and she was so tempted to move against him, to try to get a rise out of him, literally and figuratively. Instead, she pulled in another deep breath and used all her strength to duck under the surface. She’d caught him by surprise and dragged him with her. His grip loosened for a moment, allowing her to wiggle out of his arms and dive a little deeper.

When Darcy came to the surface, he was a few yards away, smiling and pushing his wet hair out of his face. “I just want you to know that I let you win,” he said.

She laughed again and spun in a circle before swimming back over to him. He moved away as she got closer until his back was against the wall of the pool. “You let me win because you’re such a nice guy?” she asked, stopping to tread water a couple feet from him.

“I let you win because I like you,” he replied. The sincerity of it was written in his eyes.

“Is that right?” Darcy moved a little closer.

“Mmm hmm.” He hooked an arm up to rest it on the blue and green mosaic tiles around the edge.

She swam up and mirrored his position. Bucky wasn’t good at hiding his gaze as it dropped to her chest and the swell of her breasts that were pushed up and in by the bikini top. Sometimes she was sure he was interested. Last night she’d been confident he wanted to kiss her, but he’d also been drunk last night. He was sober now, but he still looked like he might want to close the space between them.

“You’re in a better mood today,” she said, flipping her wet hair behind her shoulders again.

Bucky licked a drop of water off his lower lip. “Did some thinking last night,” he replied. “I want to be better. I don’t want to live the way I have.”

“What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “I guess it means I need to let go and accept I can’t control everything. I’m here with you. That was my choice, and I’m glad I’m here. So… I need to try and enjoy it. Right?”

“Look at you being all personal-growthy and shit,” Darcy said with a grin.

He laughed. “No more Asgardian alcohol, though,” Bucky replied. “I like more control than not, you know.”

“Noted,” she said with a nod. “I’ll only flirt with you when you’re sober.”

He chuckled and inched forward. Darcy turned so her back was to the wall of the pool, the water return lapping up water into the filter just to her left. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to feel the sun on her face.

“Thank you for making me come with you.” His voice was close, right in front of her instead of to her right.

Darcy opened her eyes and leveled her head to find him caging her in, one arm on either side of her, his hands resting on the edge of the pool. His nearness and the warmth of his body kicked her heartrate up a notch.

“Am I making you nervous?” he murmured.

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Your heart is beating faster.”

“Yep,” she agreed. “But it’s really not fair that you can hear my heartbeat. I feel like that’s cheating.”

“Only if I’m the one making it do that,” he said.

“We aren't on the top of a building looking over the edge, and you’re the only one here.”

He smiled, and it reached his eyes, warming them with a happiness she’d only had the pleasure of seeing on his face a couple times before. Bringing it about was now a challenge. Could she make him happy? Could she help him make himself happy?

“I don't know how you make this so easy for me,” Bucky said.

“Make what easy?” She wanted him to come a little closer. Just another inch or two and they'd be touching. They could be kissing.

“When it's just you and me, you make me forget how bad it is. I feel like things might be okay.”

“Things are okay. Or they will be,” Darcy replied, kicking her leg out in the warm water of the pool and grazing his thigh with her calf.

He opened and closed his mouth before finally saying, “You sound so confident, doll.”

“It’s easy to be when it comes to you. Look where you were and where you are now. That's amazing.”

“Locked in a building and now I'm in a pool with you?”

She laughed. “No. You were under HYDRA’s thumb with some assholes pulling your strings. You got yourself out. You started to heal yourself. You’re helping the Avengers. You're trying to fix what they've done to you. You _will_ fix what they've done to you.”

Bucky pushed away from the wall and her. He glided back into the middle of the pool and ducked below the surface. She watched him extend his hands out in front and glide through the water before popping back up a few yards away. He used his right hand to wipe the water from his eyes and push his hair back from his face. “You have too much faith in me. Makes me nervous. I can't be that good of a person for you.”

Darcy scrunched her nose up. “What do you mean? You already are that person, dude. Don't be silly.”

He turned away and threw his body forward, swimming to the far end of the pool. She watched him swim back toward her and kick off the wall to swim another lap. When he finished at the end furthest from her, he pressed his palms against the mosaic tiles lining the edge and pushed himself up and out of the pool. Water dripped down onto the dry, warm concrete from his dark gray boxer-briefs. The material clung to his ass and thighs.

“Damn,” Darcy muttered under her breath, exhaling sharply.

He turned around to look at her. “What?” he asked.

Stupid super soldier hearing. “It’s tragic that your ass looks so much better than mine,” she told him.

A sly smirk lifted one corner of his mouth. “Doll, you must not have seen your ass recently because that’s not true at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only four more chapters to go! They're really overdue for a kiss, don't you think?


	11. Chapter 11

> _“I don't want to give you up. I'm tired of the pull and push. I’m tired of the making love. Don't you feel like you've had enough? I want you to journey with me, explore all the innocence. I don't mind us to build tension, but we've got to move in the same direction.” - Corinne Bailey Rae (Closer)_

He'd refused to set foot in the ocean in his boxers, and Darcy was already planning a trip to one of the little boutiques she'd passed on the way to the grocery store to find him trunks tomorrow even though he'd told her not to buy him anything.

After they had gotten out of the pool that morning, she’d tried not to swallow her tongue or drool excessively as she'd watched him cut up some sharp cheddar cheese and a few pieces of fruit to have with crackers for lunch. He'd done it all in his wet underwear right in the middle of Tony's kitchen. It should have been illegal.

It had been easy to convince him to go down to the beach and bury his toes in the sand with her. By then he'd put on a pair of athletic shorts and a white tee. She wanted to tell him the tee was unnecessary on the beach, but he seemed just a bit anxious over someone seeing his entire arm. If the security of the shirt covering his biceps and shoulders relaxed him, then she wouldn't say anything.

Darcy watched him spread out a small blanket a couple yards back from the retreating water. After he'd straightened it, she tossed two bottles of water and a container of sunscreen on the edge of the blanket. Darcy was only a little uncomfortable with his steady gaze on her as she settled herself on the left side. Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked up at him.

Bucky was standing over her, his eyes moving up her body, taking in her bikini and her wet, tangled hair and her fresh face clear of makeup. She wondered what he saw that held his interest like that.

Instead of reading into it, she reached behind her and grabbed the sunscreen. He settled down next to her as she squeezed out enough for her right leg. Once it was covered, she repeated the process with her left.

“You should put some on. You're a little pale,” she told him while coating her right arm.

“A perk of all those experiments and injections is that I don’t think I need to worry about a little sun, doll,” he told her with a sweet smile.

Darcy finished up her other arm before she said, “Better safe than sorry. This pale girl takes sun exposure very seriously.”

“I see that,” Bucky said, watching her hand rub the lotion over her stomach and chest.

She extended the container to him and said, “Can you get my back?”

“Uh, I'm, you want, you mean you want me… You want me to, uh, rub…” he stammered.

“Yep. I want you to rub that on my back,” she explained, shifting so she faced away from him and pulling her hair over her shoulder. “Is this okay? I mean, if you don't want to touch–”

“No,” he replied, cutting her off. “I don't mind at all. Just… wanted to make sure you were okay with me touching you.”

Darcy chuckled. “You can always assume that I'm in favor of you touching me unless I say otherwise. And, honestly, I can't see a situation in which I'd say otherwise.”

“You’re too trusting,” he murmured. She watched him over her shoulder as he squirted a generous amount of lotion into the palm of his right hand. “This is too much, isn’t it?” he asked, looking down at enough product for three people’s backs.

“Just a little too much. It'll take you longer to rub it in.”

“Yeah, that's okay,” he said swiping some of it right between her shoulder blades. “You sure you–”

Darcy cut him off with, “I'm sure,” before he had a chance to finished the question. Turning her head to look away from him, she wiggled her shoulders. “Are _you_ sure?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Sure about touchin’ you?” He ran his hand down the center of her back, beginning just below the strip of fabric that was her bikini top in the back.

“Mmm, hmm,” she replied as her eyes slid closed at his light touch.

Bucky swiped his hand along the sides of her back, right there where it curved around into her waist. “I'm so sure.”

“You sound very passionate about proper sun care.”

His hand was warm and pressed right there at the center of her back, unmoving. “More about you than the sun.”

She almost joked with him about whether he was so eager because he wanted to save her from a burn or because he just wanted to touch her, but didn’t want to push him. Usually, she enjoyed pushing buttons and teasing, but there were moments with him when she realized it would just make him pull back into his shell. Instead, Darcy turned her head and rested her chin on her shoulder. It allowed her a view of him from the corner of her eye. His eyes were on her back as he wiped the last of the lotion onto her shoulder blades.

“You make me nervous when you watch me like that,” he murmured, laying his warm right hand right in the center of her back.

“Why would that make you nervous?”

He moved his hand in a circle, beginning to rub the lotion into her skin. “Guess I’m always worried about what you think of me.”

“I think you’re great. I also think it’s pretty obvious I think that,” Darcy replied, looking forward again. The view was amazing down the shoreline–a wide, sandy beach with gentle waves lapping at it from a calm ocean. She could see the wooden steps of the next house down. It was still far enough away for the beach to feel like it just belonged to her and Bucky. She could see a family in the distance, but they were so far away there wasn’t any concern.

Bucky’s hand was heavenly, a gentle touch with just enough pressure. “If those people come any closer, I’ll need to leave,” he said softly, sweeping his palm over her left shoulder.

His soft voice filtered through her dream-like state comprised of rhythmic, lapping waves and his sure hand on her skin. “I know,” she replied. “They look like they’re settled down there, though.”

“I’m sorry. I… Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I’m a burden.”

Darcy sighed. “Bucky, shut your mouth. You’re not a burden. I’m having a good time.”

“I ruined last night. It was perfect until I–”

“Bucky,” she interrupted. “Shut up. You didn’t ruin anything.” After a long pause, she added, “Maybe I have unrealistic expectations sometimes. You’re complicated.”

“Yeah, complicated,” he agreed. “I don’t want to be.”

A wispy cloud passed over the sun, and Darcy watched the heat burn it away. “Complicated isn’t always a bad thing. Maybe complicated was what I was looking for.”

He pushed a sharp breath of air out his nose in disbelief. “Doll, you deserve better than complicated. You deserve…”

Closing her eyes, Darcy said, “What do I deserve?”

“Anything you want,” was his soft-spoken response.

With her eyes still closed to the hazy sun, she said, “Hmm, that’s dangerous. Anything I want, huh? A million dollars? The ability to read my favorite book all over again without knowing what happens? A luxury yacht? My great grandmother’s peanut butter fudge that my mom can’t seem to get right? You to be happy?”

The sweep of his hand across her back faltered. She held her breath, wondering what he’d do, worried she might have scared him off. Finally, he resumed rubbing the sunblock into her skin, grazing his fingertips over a ticklish spot on her side right where her hip tapered into her waist. “Can’t always have everything you want, I guess,” he murmured.

“I can’t?”

“Yachts cost a lot of money.”

She chuckled and opened her eyes again, squinting against the glare of the sun overhead. “They do. Okay, I’ll replace it with something else.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. Hmm, how about back rubs from you… once a week.”

There was that slight hesitation in the sweep of his hand again. “Just once a week?” he asked.

Darcy raised her brows, wishing she could see his expression. “Minimum of once a week,” she amended.

“Whenever you want,” he murmured.

“So generous,” she teased with a lilt in her voice.

He shifted on the blanket they shared, and then she felt the smooth touch of metal on her left shoulder. It was warmer than his skin, perhaps because of heat from the sun reflecting off it. His right hand was on her right shoulder. “You’re the most generous person I know,” he said, his voice so soft it was almost overwhelmed by the sound of the ocean.

“Am I?”

“You are. You’ve treated me much better than I’ve treated you.” He squeezed the muscles in her shoulders with that gentle pressure, digging his thumbs into that spot where her neck met her shoulder, that spot where she held tension sometimes.

“You haven’t treated me bad.”

“I haven’t treated you as well as you’ve treated me.”

“It’s not a competition,” she replied.

“I know.” He kneaded her tight muscles. It was amazing how he could exert the same pressure from both hands, tempering the left so it didn’t overpower the right. She knew he could do some damage with both, but the left was capable of some pretty serious destruction. “I want to do more for you, though,” he added after a moment of silence.

“So… backrubs?”

“If that’s what you want. Dinner. I’m no good at coming up with ideas. I just… You know so much about me, and I don’t know anything about you.”

“You know stuff about me,” she protested. “Where I live, what I do, who I’m friends with.”

“Who?”

She smiled to herself. “You.”

He chuckled and moved his hands down her upper arms, giving them a squeeze. “Tell me about your great grandmother’s peanut butter fudge.”

She closed her eyes again, concentrating on the feel of his hands moving back up her arms, over her shoulders, and down her back. “She died when I was fourteen, but I remember being a kid and sitting in the floor of her kitchen, watching her make it. She’d pull a chair up to the stove because you have to stir it constantly while it cooks. She’d sit there with one of those rubber spatulas and stir it in circles or figure eights, and I’d watch and be impatient. I don’t remember how long it took, but it felt like forever. And then she’d pour it into a pan and put it in the fridge to cool for forever and a day.”

“What did it taste like?”

“Pure sugar. And creamy, too. The peanut butter made it creamy. My mom has the recipe, but we all agree that she and my grandmother can’t make it like my great gram used to. Something is off. I wish I had a piece of it to share with you. The good stuff, not my mom’s.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Who? My great gram?” Darcy felt the tips of his right hand brush over the base of her skull where her hairline was. “Yeah, I miss her. She lived up the street. I’d walk up almost every day in the summer.” She laughed softly. “One time when I was little, maybe six or seven, a bug flew up the sleeve of my T-shirt. It stung me so many times I was crying by the time I got in the door. She put witch hazel all over the bites before putting my shirt back on and giving me a bowl of ice cream with fresh strawberries. I don’t know why, but that’s one of my clearest memories of her. Isn’t that weird? I mean, I was so young and so many other things happened between then and when she died. But… that’s what I remember when someone talks about her. Bug bites and witch hazel and ice cream.”

“That ain’t weird.” His hands stroked down her back with a sure, firm touch. His fingers splayed out, reaching toward her sides and his thumbs pressing into her spine gently.

“That feels so good,” she told him, letting her head fall back, but keeping her eyes closed.

Bucky hands cupped her shoulders before his right one moved, skimming over her collarbone and encircling her neck in a loose grip. “Your skin is so smooth,” he whispered.

When she opened her eyes, his head was above her, a corona of warm light around it from the sun he was blocking. Darcy swallowed the emotion bubbling up in her, pushed down the feelings his touch was causing.

“Does this scare you?” he asked, flexing his hand on her throat.

“No,” she answered. “You don’t scare me.”

He shook his head and slipped his hand away, letting his fingertips linger on her shoulders before pulling away completely. She missed his touch immediately, but tried to push that emotion down, too. Instead she lifted herself up and scooted until she was sitting with her feet to the ocean and her head to the house.

“Lie down and relax,” she told him as she did exactly that, lying backing and shifting until the sand beneath the blanket conformed to her body.

Bucky hesitated a moment before moving to lie beside her, his cybernetic left arm pressed down the length of her right arm.

“They’re still in the same place,” she told him when she realized, he was glancing down the beach at the family they’d seen before.

“I know,” he replied. “I just…”

“You worry. I get it.” Darcy frowned and closed her eyes. “Do you want to go back to the house?”

Bucky replied, “No,” right away. “I want to stay here with you.”

She sighed in contentment and said, “What do you want for dinner?”

He was silent for a long moment, as if he were really giving her question some thought. Finally, he said, “Something I can help you with like that night I made chicken marsala with you.”

“Giving me the best back rub ever _and_ helping me cook dinner _and_ running around in a pair of wet boxer-briefs. You trying to seduce me?”

She felt him move and opened her eyes in time to see him propping himself up on his left elbow. “I think you’re trying to seduce me with this swimsuit,” he murmured.

Darcy grinned and lifted a hand to her forehead to shade her eyes from the sun that was creeping toward the horizon behind them. It was starting to set earlier and earlier each day now that they were into September. “What? This old thing?” she asked.

His eyes swept from her face down her neck and seemed to get caught up on the swell of her breasts. “Looks nice on you.” His lips barely moved, and she almost didn’t hear him over the sound of two seagulls squawking overhead.

“Just nice?”

“Better than nice,” he corrected, moving his eyes back up to lock gazes with her. There was something in the way he was holding himself and the way he was looking at her that took her breath away. It was like he wanted to close the distance between them so badly, but didn’t know how.

Deciding to take a leap and open herself up like she had the night before, Darcy said, “Sometimes you look like you want to kiss me.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in what was the most bittersweet smile she’d ever seen. “That’s because I do,” he whispered.

“So… do,” she replied.

“Doll…” He almost looked pained.

“What’s stopping you?” she asked.

He licked his lips and swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“It’s just a kiss. That’s not so scary.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Are you scared of me?” she asked.

He dropped his forehead to her collarbone and laughed softly. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin and the way his body just barely touched hers. “I’m very scared of you,” Bucky whispered, his lips brushing over the skin above her left breast.

“Why?”

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it anymore,” he admitted.

Of all the things she’d been expecting him to say–and there was a wide range of responses he could have given–that was not one on her list, not even in the realm of possibility. “Well,” she said, trying to calm to pounding of her heart, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, well, I’m swooning a little bit here,” she replied, moving the hand that was shading her eyes to thread through his hair. It had dried from the pool, but was tangled from the wind and the salty air.

With his forehead still pressed into her collarbone, he said, “I wish you could hear my heartbeat. I think it’s faster than yours.”

Darcy slipped her free hand between them and pressed her palm to his chest. “Lemme feel,” she whispered before laughing under her breath and saying, “It feels like you just ran the two hundred yard dash.”

“I told you.”

She curled her fingers into his hair and gently tugged. “Better kiss me, then.”

After just a moment’s hesitation, he lifted his chin and brought his face up so their mouths were just an inch apart. Her right hand was still on his chest, feeling the rhythmic pounding of her heartbeat, and her left was fisted in his hair. Bucky tenderly placed his right hand on her waist as he leaned over her more fully.

“Ain’t kissed anybody in a few decades,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over the features of her face.

“No time to start like the present,” she replied, a strange mixture of anticipation and euphoria coursing through her body.

His lips parted like he was going to reply. Instead of words, he leaned in closer, his hand on her waist. Darcy closed her eyes and waited. He didn’t make her wait too long, though. Within a moment, his mouth was pressed softly to hers in a gentle, chaste kiss. Darcy parted her lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss. Instead, he tilted his head and brushed his lips over the corner of her mouth and then her cheek. As he moved his mouth along her jawline, pressing gentle, opened-mouthed kisses along it, she sighed. Using her hand on his head, she urged him toward her mouth again.

He finally relented and slotted his mouth over hers, his nose pressed into her cheek and his lips open. She flicked her tongue out, swiping it over the fullness of his bottom lip. Bucky inhaled sharply and tightened his hand on her waist as he took her bottom lip between his, running the tip of his tongue over it. It was too much and not enough all at the same time.

Arching her back, Darcy deepened the kiss, pressing her mouth against his harder and more insistently. Bucky responded, mimicking her movements. Within just a few seconds her body was on fire for him, desperate to feel him on top of her.

He pulled back to take a breath, pressing his forehead against hers. “You’re trying to kill me,” he told her, humor in his voice.

“Uh, likewise, buddy.”

The sound of a little girl squealing in delight made Bucky sit up in alarm. Darcy turned her head and saw the family that had been in the distance slowly making their way up the shoreline as they followed a little girl who couldn’t be more than five as she tried to grab things out of the waves. What looked like two older siblings with a mother and father weren’t far behind her. They weren’t close enough to see faces, but she was sure they’d see the glint of the sun off Bucky’s arm soon if they hadn't already.

“Party’s over,” Darcy whispered, standing up and putting her body between them and Bucky. She flipped the edge of the blanket over his left arm and said, “Can you carry this back up to the house?”

She knew she wasn’t fooling him, that he knew exactly what she was doing as she tried to help him conceal the arm from any watchful eyes. “Thank you, doll,” he replied, pushing himself to his feet and folding the blanket over his cybernetic arm.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\\\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

At Bucky’s insistence and under her direction, he made dinner while she sat on the counter by the stove and told him about how she’d gotten wrapped up in this crazy world of super heroes. The baked ziti was any easy thing to make, especially with a jar of pre-made sauce. He was at turns serious about getting the pasta cooked just right for her and amused at her tale of meeting Thor while working with Jane in New Mexico. She hadn’t realized until just then how much he’d been holding back in their previous interactions. Not that they had been bad interactions, but they had been about him. He’d been so focused on himself that he hadn’t even had the presence of mind to ask her about herself. In fairness, Darcy had also found herself focused on him to the exclusion of herself.

Dinner together that night seemed more natural, more like two people spending time together than her acting as some sort of pseudo-therapist or his trial run in socialization after the trauma he’d gone through. She tried to forget about the kiss on the beach, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Much to Darcy’s disappointment, Bucky was taking care not to get too close to her. She wanted to grab his face and lay a kiss on him he couldn’t resist. She wanted to climb him like a tree before wrapping her legs around his waist so she could feel his body against hers again. She didn’t do either, though. He still liked his control and couldn’t be faulted for that.

They left the dishes in the sink and drank cans of Coke in the adirondack chairs on the patio until the sky was dark and you could see the reflection of the moon on the water. Darcy stood up to stretch her back, using the opportunity to get closer to Bucky. He hadn’t tried to touch her since their kiss on the beach that afternoon.

“Still scared of me?” she asked, sitting down on the arm of his chair.

He shifted so he could slip his right arm around her. “Scared might not be the right word.”

“Terrified?” she offered, looking down into his upturned face.

Bucky laughed softly. “Not that, either. Overwhelmed, maybe?”

“Overwhelmed? I’m overwhelming?”

“Doll, don’t tell me that I’m the first person who has told you you’re a handful,” he replied, tightening his arm around her waist and rubbing his thumb over her hip.

“Usually being a handful is a bad thing.”

“It ain’t. I feel like I’m playing at level two and you’re at level twenty. It’s hard for me to catch up.”

“Feeling your age, Bucky?”

He gave the flesh on her hip a light pinch through the material of her shorts. “Biologically I’m–”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not much older than me. I know. You wouldn’t look as hot as you do if you were a hundred.”

Bucky sighed and let his head fall back. “Fresh air smells good.”

“Ocean air smells good,” she corrected. “I’m glad we have a week here. I’m glad you came.”

He smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yep. But only if you kiss me again. That one earlier today was just a tease. I never thought I’d be so annoyed by a toddler interrupting us. ”

“I’m outta practice,” Bucky admitted.

“Uh, no, you’re not.” She stood up, catching his hand as he let it fall away from her. “Come on,” she told him, tugging at his arm. “Let’s go listen to some music. You can pick. I have an extensive jazz selection on my phone for you to choose from.”

He laughed and let her pull him out of the chair. “Okay, lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm flattered and humbled by the wonderful comments you all leave. They certainly make me a happy author.
> 
> The lyrics at the beginning of each chapter come from songs that I listened to on repeat while I write this fic. If you'd like to see a complete listing of songs that inspired or helped me write this particular tale, then you can [here is a graphic with the songs](https://i.imgur.com/jmNNqxw.jpg). You should be able to find all of them on YouTube for your listening pleasure. I hope you find a song or three that speaks to you.


	12. Chapter 12

> _“There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how. I said, maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me? And after all, you're my wonderwall.” - Ryan Adams (Wonderwall)_

They ended up in the master bedroom. He seemed just the slightest bit on edge, but he wasn’t objecting. He _had_ told her he wanted her to push him to do things out of his comfort zone. She just had a hard time knowing when to push and when to respect his boundaries. He'd been so open with her since joining her early that afternoon at the pool. Maybe he was having a good day and she should just run with it.

Darcy sat down on the side of the bed and said, “Let's put something on and listen until we fall asleep.”

“It's only eight o’clock,” he replied, watching her from the doorway.

She shrugged. “I don't know about you, but lying here, listening to great music, and talking with you sounds like the best way to spend a few hours.” Darcy tilted her head as she looked at him. “What? You didn't think I intended on passing out as early as we did last night, did you?”

He took a couple steps toward her. “You want me to sleep in here? With you?”

“Yep. I'm gonna go change into my pajamas.” She turned back to him before she walked into the massive master bathroom. “Please tell me you sleep in your underwear.”

Bucky shook his head, but smiled at her. “Depends on how hot it is.”

“ _Very_ hot,” she replied. Darcy faked a moment of mortification before saying, “Oh, you mean the temperature, not you in your undies.”

That got a honest to goodness laugh from him. “Yeah, I guess I sleep in my underwear if that's what you want.”

Before closing the bathroom door, she said, “Are you still on that kick where you think I should get whatever I want?”

“I've always thought that, probably always will.”

“Hmm, I'll keep that in mind. You might regret telling me this.” Darcy shut the door and leaned against it. How was she supposed to play it cool with Bucky Barnes in her bed wearing just undies and telling her sweet things like how she deserved the world? Fuck him and that sinful mouth he'd kissed her with. She touched her lips with the tips of her fingers, remembering the way he’d felt against her.

She only allowed herself to linger on the memory for a moment before switching out of her clothes and putting on a pair of cotton shorts that barely covered her ass and a little camisole with lace trimming the low neckline. Briefly, she considered keeping her bra on, but sleeping in the damn thing sounded like a recipe for a shitty night. Plus, she wanted to get a rise out of Bucky. He'd stared at her chest a few times before. Maybe he was a boob guy.

When she came out of the bathroom, he was sitting on the foot of the bed, his forearms resting on his knees and his back hunched over so he could stare at the floor between his feet. She immediately felt bad for even thinking of teasing him or tempting him with her pajamas. Sometimes he seemed so normal with that levity in his eyes that she forgot about who he was, even forgot about that weapon of an arm attached to his left shoulder. Other times, she’d look up and see exactly how broken he still was.

Sighing, Darcy sat down beside him and bent her head down, tilting it to the side in hopes of catching his eye. He turned his head toward her and gave her a bittersweet smile.

“What do you want to listen to?” she asked, holding her phone out toward him.

His eyes moved from the phone, up her arm, to her chest. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Whatever you want to listen to, doll.”

“What if I want to listen to whatever you want to listen to?”

He laughed under his breath and shook his head. “Don’t matter. Anything would sound good right now. How about the Ryan Adams album you played me when we had dinner that night?”

Darcy nodded and pulled up the media player on her phone. A quick search gave her the album and a touch of a button connected her phone to the wifi speakers in the house. It was a miracle of technology, one which Tony had probably installed a decade before anyone else had access to the convenience. She let herself fall back onto the mattress, her hands folded over her stomach and her legs dangling off the bed.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder at her before carefully letting himself lean back and lie down beside her. His right shoulder was pressed against hers and their arms touched. The music was soft, loud enough to enjoy, but not so loud they couldn’t talk easily.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Right now? Really good.” His voice was clear and certain.

She smiled up at the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe a little intimidated by you, though.”

She laughed and shifted in the bed until she was on her side and facing him, her head propped up on her hand and her elbow digging into the mattress. “I am many things, but intimidating is not one of them,” she told him.

His eyes shifted over to her. “Can I tell you the truth?” he asked.

“Always.”

“I don’t know what you expect out of me. And I don’t know… I don’t know if I can give you what you’re expecting.”

She drew her brows together. “I don’t expect anything out of you. Are you… do you mean… Are you asking me if I’m expecting to sleep with you or something?”

His tongue rolled out to wet his lower lip. “No, not… I mean, yes, but no. I… Are we friends or…”

“Well, we’re friends, sure.”

“Do friends listen to music in bed together?”

“Uh, _yeah_.” Her tone was one of incredulity. Of course friends listened to music in bed together. It was one of the hallmarks of a good friendship.

“Do friends kiss each other?” His face was so serious.

Darcy scrunched her nose up and smiled at him. “Well, not usually like what, uh, happened on the beach this afternoon.”

“So…” Bucky trailed off.

“So what?”

He sighed and turned until he was facing her. “Doll, I’m fucked up. My life is a mess and...well, it isn’t really any kind of life. I don’t even know how to talk to you half the time. I just… I feel like I’m running to keep up with you.”

“You don’t have–”

“I want to,” he said, interrupting her. “I want to keep up with you. I want to be normal, but I’m not there yet. I don’t want to… disappoint you.”

She gave him a little smile. “Are you saying I’m not allowed to kiss you anymore?”

He laughed and laid his head down on the mattress, looking up at her. “No.”

“Good,” she replied. “You said you’re running to keep up with me. Tell me when to slow down.” Darcy paused and said, “Do you want to go back to your room? You don’t have to be here.”

“No, I _want_ to be here.” He pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed again. “What do you want from me?”

“Right now? To get into bed and listen to this album with me until we fall asleep.”

“And later?”

She looked up at his back, the way his hair brushed against the collar of his shirt. “Dunno. I’m not exactly a planner. Kinda go where the wind takes me, you know. We could figure that out later, maybe?”

“I feel like I’m going to disappoint you.”

“My expectations are pretty minimal. Don’t be an asshole to me, and we’re cool. Anything else is just icing on the cake.”

He looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed. “You deserve more that.”

“So, give me what you got,” she said. “I’m just saying, I don’t expect more.” Darcy sat up and scooted backward until she was in the middle of the king size bed. She reached back and fluffed the pillows before kicking the duvet down toward the end of the bed with her feet.

Bucky watched her from his spot there. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting comfy. Come up here. It’s a big bed. I won’t make you run after me. I’m practically at a standstill.”

He looked away and laughed softly before standing up. She watched him pull his shirt over his head and drop the athletic shorts after he’d loosened the drawstring. He had on another pair of those gray boxer-briefs, just like the pair that he’d swam in that morning. “Did you leave the bra off on purpose?” he asked, drawing her attention away from his abdomen and the way his boxers rode low on his hips.

“Huh?” she asked, looking up at his face as he stood beside the bed.

“Your bra,” he repeated.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m not wearing that contraption to bed. Does that bother you?”

He sat down and swung his legs into bed before lying back. There was a little over a foot of space between them. “I wouldn’t say I’m bothered by it. Distracted, maybe.”

“Well, I’m distracted by your everything, so you can just suffer.”

He chuckled and rolled over to face her, shoving his arm beneath one of the pillows and laying his head on the pillowcase. She turned onto her side to mirror him.

“Why me?” he asked.

“Why you, what?”

“Why did you pick me?”

She smiled. “Pick you for what, Bucky?”

“To spend your time on.”

Instead of answering his question, she asked one of her own. “Why did you pick me to tell your stories to?”

He seemed to really think about it for a long moment, his eyes shifting slightly, tracing the features on her face. “I don’t know, doll. I just… wanted to. Felt like I could. You listened.”

“I did. I’m still ashamed of that.”

“Don’t be. I knew you were there.”

She rolled her eyes and shifted her body, inching just a little bit closer. He didn’t seem to mind. “Yeah, but _I_ didn’t know that you were aware. I thought I was eavesdropping on something that wasn’t my business. I shouldn’t have… That was a shitty thing to do.”

“I wanted you to hear. I was worried you wouldn’t come back after the first time. Thought I'd have to find the courage to actually walk up and say hi.”

Darcy raised her brows. “You thought about that? You wondered if I’d come back the next day?”

“Yeah, of course. When I walked in that day to talk about rusted… I almost walked into the kitchen to see you when I heard your foot move against the floor.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Bucky gave a bitter laugh. “I thought I’d scare you off. And I really wanted someone to talk to, even though you didn’t know I was talking to you.”

“You _have_ people to talk to. Sam. Steve.”

“Someone else. I saw you a week after I moved into the building. I don’t think you saw me.”

Darcy shifted closer. “When did you move into the building?”

“Six months ago.”

She thought back to the first time she’d seen him. He’d been standing in the doorway of Tony’s office while Steve Rogers spoke to Tony. Darcy had been in there picking up Tony’s credit card so she could find him Cuban coffee. Bucky had kept his eyes on Steve’s back, and Darcy had been so focused on the former assassin that she didn’t hear a single thing Tony or Steve had said. That had been three months ago, not six. “When did you see me?”

“You were working in the lab.”

“Where were you?” she asked.

“I was having a tech look at my arm. You were busy; you didn’t see me.”

“That’s surprising. You kinda stand out.” After moment she added, “In a good way. You’re hot.”

He laughed softly, turning his face into the pillow for a moment. “You were telling Stark to stop using a battery pack to shock Bruce when he wasn't looking. When you'd put Stark in his place, you sat down at your desk and put your elbow on the top of it with your hand in your palm. You took a bite of a candy bar that you'd left there when you broke those two up.”

“I don't even remember this, but I _have_ stopped Tony from picking on people way too many times.”

“I watched you sit there by yourself and watch everyone around you. It was pretty clear they all respected you. And you seemed so… separate. I don't know if that's the right word. Like, you weren't all there, like you were in someone else's world and just getting by. I wanted to talk to you so bad because I felt that way, too. I could see myself in you. Not completely, but there was just something about you that… I felt like I could… that you would…” He sighed and pressed the side of his face more firmly into the pillow.

“I'm a little distressed that you saw me, and I had no clue I was being checked out by the hottest guy in the building.”

Her comment made him laugh again, a flush growing across his cheeks. “I couldn't believe it when I realized you were in the kitchen that day. At first I didn't want to talk because I felt like whatever I would say would just be embarrassing, but then… I thought maybe that would be the way to talk to you since I couldn't walk up to you and say hi.”

“Did I ruin your plan by spying on you in the lounge that night I left you the record and the malt?” Darcy asked.

“No. No, I was glad. I felt like I didn't deserve any of what you were doing, but I was so glad. I couldn't do it on my own, so you did it for me.”

“Couldn't do what?”

“Make you talk to me without a wall between us. Real talking where I could see your face and hear your voice.”

“You're the one who turned around and said hi when I was trying to sneak out.”

Bucky shifted, and his body got just a bit closer. “Only after you showed me that you heard me, that you cared enough to give me something. Something I didn't deserve, by the way.”

“Well, we aren't going to debate that because you'll lose. I'm stubborn, and I think you deserve a lot more than you're willing to accept.”

“I wish I could give you what you deserve,” he whispered, his eyes looking down at the space between them, only a few inches now. She could see the way his long lashes laid against his skin and the way his lips were parted just slightly.

Darcy smiled at him even if he wouldn’t look up at her. She’d never been face to face with someone who obviously adored her so much that it made him uncomfortable. It was a heady feeling, and it made her want to rush things. She wanted to grab his face between her hands and kiss him senseless, put her hands all over his body until he was out of his mind with sensation and pleasure and love. But she couldn’t do any of that because he needed his control. It was frustrating to want to give him everything, but knowing that everything was just too much at once.

“Hey,” she said, extending a foot to brush against his leg. His eyes jerked up to look at her. “Tell me about the last word.”

Bucky pressed his lips together before pulling in a deep breath through his nose and blowing it out his mouth. She almost shivered at the erotic feel of his warm breath on her chest. “Are you sure you want to talk about that now?” he asked.

“What better time? We’re comfortable. We’ve got all night. Good tunes are playing. I like hearing your voice,” Darcy told him.

She watched him chew on his lower lip before he said, “Okay.”

Darcy shifted closer until they were sharing his pillow, their faces only a few scant inches apart. “What’s the word?”

“Freight car,” he whispered.

She looked into this eyes and the depths of regret there. “Is that about falling from the train?”

He nodded.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I died,” he said. He made it sound so simple, so true.

“But you didn’t _die_ ,” she replied.

“I did,” Bucky insisted. “That moment split my life in two. I ain’t that kid from Brooklyn anymore. That kid died when he fell off the train.” His eyes were wide and earnest when he added, “I know I didn’t _really_ die, but it feels that way. You wouldn’t recognize me before HYDRA. I’m someone different now.”

Darcy reached out and placed her hand on the middle of his chest. She felt him pull in a shuddering breath, but he didn’t make a move to pull away. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Shit happens and people have to change to make it through,” she said.

“I used to be a good person; I don’t think I am anymore. That guy died when I fell. Now I’m something else. I’m a killer.”

She pressed her hand more firmly into his chest. “You’re not a killer. You’re a survivor. All that shit in the last notebook… that’s serious. They treated you like an animal. The fact that you came out the other end alive and wanting to be a good person–that’s amazing, Bucky. And, you know what? You _are_ a good person, no want-to-be about it.”

“You only think that because you haven't seen me at my worst,” he told her, his eyes sad. She felt him slip his right hand over hers on his chest.

“What is your worst? When they have control of your mind? Because that's not your worst; it's theirs.”

He curled his fingers around her hand and pulled it up from his chest to his mouth. Darcy took a sharp breath when he surprised her with a brush of his lips over her hand. She watched as he closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. His mouth and breath were both warm against her skin.

He lifted his eyelids to reveal his gorgeous blue eyes. “You're so nice to me. Sometimes I don't know how to be around you,” he confessed to her.

She pulled her hand out of his grasp and cupped his cheek before sliding her palm to his jawline. “Tell me about freight car.”

He closed his eyes again and pressed his hand over hers as if to keep her skin against his face. “We'd repelled onto the roof of the train that Zola was on. ” Bucky opened his eyes and the depth of emotion there made her chest tighten up. He continued his story saying, “While we searched the cars, we drew fire from some HYDRA soldiers. It was so cramped with all their supplies, so dark. You could feel the train moving under your feet. Steve saved my ass right before one of HYDRA’s suited up soldiers engaged us. It blew a hole in the side of the car and knocked Steve onto the floor because he’d jumped in front to shield me from the blast. I did what I could and grabbed his shield to deflect the bullets so I could return fire. Things moved so fast then. The next thing I knew I was being thrown back and out the hole in the car. I grabbed onto the side of the train, but my grip wasn't good enough. Steve climbed out and tried to pull me in. He tried so hard to reach me, but I couldn't hold on.”

Bucky sighed, and Darcy moved her hand back down to his chest.

“Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I'd have been able to hold on for a few more seconds, long enough for him to reach me.”

“Can't change the past,” she told him.

“I fell. I remember hitting my shoulder off the side of the mountain, but not hitting the ground. Must have passed out. Next thing I remember is pain and so many faces above me, hands grabbing and lifting. My entire body felt like it was on fire, and I couldn't feel my left arm, even though the shoulder there felt like it had been ripped to shreds.” He paused and said, “You know the rest from the notebook.”

“I'm sorry, Bucky.”

He reached out for her, wrapping his arms around her body and pulling her close. “You have nothing to be sorry for, doll.”

Darcy released the breath she'd been holding when he'd grabbed her. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He'd initiated contact, so she assumed he'd be okay with her kissing him. Holding his head between her hands, she tilted her head and brushed her lips over his mouth.

Bucky let out a ragged breath and tightened his arms around her before opening his mouth. The kiss was like free-falling and not knowing when you'd hit bottom, hoping you never would. His tongue was tentative for just a moment, a brief second frozen in time, and then he was ravenous and ripping the breath from her lungs with how eager he was. Bucky’s left arm was pinned beneath her body with its vibranium hand firm against the middle of her back. His right hand was more pliant and roaming restlessly up and down her side before he eventually buried it in her hair to hold her mouth against his.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered against her lips when they pulled away for a breath.

Darcy giggled, moving her hand on his chest down until she felt the muscles of his stomach jump. “Well, you’re so hard. Pun intended,” she replied.

He laughed before kissing her again, slipping his knee between hers and pushing her a little further onto her back. Darcy let him, her entire body buzzing at just the idea of getting him out of his boxers to free the erection she could feel pressed up against her thigh.

“You make me feel… like everything is okay, like I can be this way with you. How do you do that?” His lips moved down the column of her throat and back up behind her ear as he whispered the question.

She used her hand fisted in his hair to bring his mouth back up to hers. “I'm awesome like that,” she told Bucky before kissing him deeply, tasting him and imagining she could detect a hint of leftover sweetness from the Cokes they'd had after dinner.

His body was hard and tense with restraint as he moved his hands over her, the fingertips of his left pressing firmly into her spine right where the dip in the small of her back was. It should have been uncomfortable, but it only served to inflame her desire for him. They were in thin, insubstantial clothing, tangled in expensive sheets on a huge bed. The world felt so distant, and he felt so fucking real and so desperate for her. They'd had dinner together more than three times. Plus, it wasn't like she always stuck to her guns on the three date rule. If sex felt right, then arbitrary rules were stupid.

Darcy worked a hand between their bodies, aiming to slide it beneath the waistband of his boxer-briefs. Bucky gasped when he realized what she was about a moment too late. Her fingers brushed over the coarse hair right above his erection before he tilted his hips and pressed down into her body to block her hand.

“I want you,” she whispered.

“I… I'm…” Unable to form a sentence, Bucky let go of her and rolled onto his back.

She didn't follow him, even if her body was telling her to swing a leg over his narrow hips. The sheet was tangled around her legs and his, but she could see the bulge beneath it, could see the evidence that his body was ready even if he wasn't. It lessened the sting of him rolling away, even if just a little.

“You okay? Sorry, I didn't think I was running,” Darcy admitted, referencing their conversation earlier that night.

“You weren't. I'm just… crawling.” His chest was rising and falling rapidly. Tentatively, she rolled onto her side and placed a hand right over his heart. It was pounding like the hooves of a racehorse. “I'm sorry, doll,” he murmured, placing his left hand on hers, holding her palm to his smooth chest.

“Nothing to apologize for, Bucky.”

“I need to tell you something that is… a little… embarrassing.”

She smiled. “My entire life is embarrassing. Spill it.”

“I’ve never… with someone.” His eyes were resolutely on the ceiling.

“You've never what?”

“Had actual sex.” He lifted his right hand to rub at his eyes as if hiding from her judgement.

Darcy felt her eyes go wide at his confession. “Wait,” she said, “you've never had sex?”

“Not… technically.”

“But… but look at you. You're… you. And weren't you like a playboy back in the day?”

He let his cybernetic hand fall away from hers, but Darcy kept her palm pressed against his chest. “Things were different then. Dames were looking for a guy to give ‘em a ring or at least make it exclusive. I wasn’t ready to commit. That doesn’t mean I haven’t done things.”

She laughed softly. “Things, huh?”

“I know my way around. I’ve just never… you know.”

“What if I don’t know? Are we talking slipping some tongue in her mouth or her…”

He tried not to laugh and ended up snorting as he held it back. “A man doesn’t slip tongue and tell.”

She pressed her forehead to his chest and laughed so hard her stomach hurt. When she finally caught her breath, she said, “It’s just very surprising to me. I mean, we're talking about _you_ here. You're sex on legs.”

“I don't know what that is, but I'll take it as a compliment.”

“It was definitely a compliment. So… virgin, huh?” She wiggled her brows as she looked down at him.

“Darcy,” he warned her, trying to keep that little smile from growing across his face. “This is a little embarrassing for me. Don't make fun.”

She feigned shock. “Make fun? Never. I'm just thinking of all the things I could teach you. I mean, you seem like you've got a natural aptitude for it, judging by the state of my panties.”

She watched the muscles of his throat move as he swallowed hard. “I don't want to disappoint you, doll. And this is all… You move fast, and I said I’m a little out of practice, so you’ve gotta be patient,” he whispered, looking up at her with those beautiful blue eyes and all that emotion that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Giving his chest a couple pats with her hand, she let herself sink down into the mattress. The Ryan Adams album was still playing and his cover of Wonderwall had just started. Darcy settled her head into the feather pillow and studied Bucky's profile. After a moment, he rolled over onto his side to face her. “You won't disappoint me,” she finally said when she caught his gaze.

Bucky reached out his right hand and threaded his fingers through her hair, gently combing out the tangles. It was difficult to reconcile a man who could treat her with such reverence and care with the same man who could brutally kill without blinking an eye. HYDRA really had done a number on him to turn him so far away from his nature.

The music was getting to her. The sweet, vulnerable vocals that were sometimes murmured and sometimes whispered, saying that no one feels they way he does, that he can't find the words, that maybe this person would be the one to save him. Bucky’s gaze was so focused on her that she had to look away. It was too much, too heavy, too scary to think where she was headed. She’d set out to help him, not fall in love with him.

“Can I sleep here with you tonight?” he asked, trailing his fingertips over her cheekbone to her lips.

“I'd be offended if you didn't.”

“Can I hold you?”

Darcy smiled at him. “You don't have to ask these things. You know you can do whatever you want.”

After he smiled back at her, she turned over and pulled his right arm over her waist. He exhaled a shuddering breath and pulled her back into his body. Her ass fit right against his softening erection, and his arm around her was pressed up between her breasts. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her neck and hairline.

“So do you,” Darcy replied, closing her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned in this chapter is Ryan Adams' cover of Oasis' Wonderwall. It's a lovely song, especially in the manner than Ryan Adams does it. If you'd like to hear it, you can [listen on YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gVxRvNfFLg).


	13. Chapter 13

> _“Are you waiting just for me, out where the heavens meet the sea. Oh, I knew it when we met. Time stood still, a light in the dark of the world.” - Jim James (The World’s Smiling Now)_

Darcy was jarred awake by someone dragging her out of bed. Disoriented, she struggled against the hand gripping her upper arm. “What the fuck…” she muttered, stumbling to her feet and colliding with Bucky's body. With her free hand, she rubbed one of her eyes.

“Shh,” he hissed, hushing her. It wasn't until then that she realized he was still in his boxers, and his wide eyes looked terrified. “You need to wake up, doll. We need to get out of here.”

“What’s happening?” she asked, struggling to pull away from him. He was a little scary when he was so focused and so fearful.

“I can hear people downstairs,” Bucky whispered. “You need to trust me.”

“Bucky, are you sure you aren't–”

“ _Trust me_. We have to go.”

She wasn't completely convinced his paranoia hadn't got the best of him, but a little voice in the back of her head told her something wasn't right. Something was off. “Okay,” she told him.

He pulled her toward the French doors that led to a private patio a floor above the one they'd sat on that night. He pushed her toward the edge right when she heard a crash down the hall, like a door being kicked in.

If she hadn't believed him before, then she believed him now. “Oh my god,” Darcy gasped, looking into the dark bedroom and then down to the concrete patio.

“Arms around my neck,” he ordered, turning his back to her and bending his knees so she could reach. On instinct, Darcy wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight as he vaulted over the balcony railing without even warning her. She almost wasn't able to stifle her scream, regulating it to a terrified squeak as his feet hit the ground.

“Bucky,” she said, letting go.

“Don't talk. Run.” He pushed her toward the stairs that led down to the pool. Down there was a second set that would take her to the sandy beach.

She grabbed his arm, trying to pull him along.

Bucky shook himself free of her. “Go!” he demanded roughly under his breath. Right at that moment the glass in the patio door a few yards from them shattered and the wooden pane fell to the ground.

She watched in horror as Bucky lurched forward and grabbed the barrel of a rifle that had appeared from the darkness of the house. He used his left hand to bend the metal barrel up right before she heard the crack of a gunshot that morphed into an explosion. Fire shot out of the middle of the rifle as the barrel blew apart in their attacker's hands.

A crash from the bedroom patio above them made her look up.

“Go! Run!” he yelled at her.

The fear in his voice knocked her out of the trance she'd found herself in. “Please,” she begged, reaching out a hand as she took the first two steps down.

“I'll follow if I can,” he said. “Go, Darcy.”

A bullet skipped off the concrete a few inches from her foot. She couldn't repress the scream this time. Just before she turned, she saw him leap up to reach the railing of the second floor balcony. Grabbing the shooter, Bucky flung him off the perch above, smashing the man into one of the Adirondack chairs they'd spent the evening in.

Suddenly there were voices everywhere. By the time she tripped off the wooden stairs and landed in the cool sand on the beach, she heard gunshots clang against metal. Probably his vibranium arm. It took everything she had to struggle to her feet and stumble forward, leaving him behind. I'm just a liability, she kept repeating to herself.

A scuffle on the patio above made her look up again just in time to see a rag doll of a body fly through the air and land limp and useless on the beach a few yards from her. The figure was in head-to-toe black, and she was so relieved it wasn't Bucky.

She was a few yards down the beach, struggling to get traction in the soft sand, when she heard the sound of someone pursuing her. Darcy glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see Bucky. Instead, she saw two men outfitted in black. One had a rifle pointed at her.

She dropped to the ground a moment before she heard the crack of the gun. Her ears were ringing from all the other gunshots, but that one did a number to her head, disorienting her for a moment. Before she could push herself back to her feet, she saw something–or someone–fly through the air. Bucky must have launched himself off the patio to knock the man who had been shooting at her off balance. She froze, watching as Bucky ruthlessly broke the gunman’s neck and stepped over the body.

He looked up at her. She could barely make out his face in the dim light from the house and the glaring lights attached to the rifle scopes pointed this way and that. It looked like at least a dozen men were pouring over the patio wall or down the wooden steps. Bucky's eyes looked wild and feral. For a brief second, she thought maybe they'd already gotten to him. The moment was shattered when he said, “Go, _please_ ” in a rough voice.

Darcy heard a wordless and animalistic cry emit from her mouth, but she didn't recall making it. A bullet whizzed by so close to her head that she felt the rush of wind coming off it.

“Sil'noe zhelaniye. Prorzhavevshiy.”

The words were in Russian, but Darcy knew exactly what the translation was when she heard Bucky scream in pure rage and pain. She faltered at the very same moment, looking up at a man standing on the low patio wall and looking down at Bucky. The guy had a stupid hat on and a book clutched in his hand. Malts and bicycles flashed through her mind when she heard the HYDRA operative say Bucky's first too trigger words.

“No,” Darcy said, fear for him welling up in her. She looked over at Bucky as he deflected a bullet with his arm. Just as he squatted down to get the momentum to jump up and grab the guy who was talking, two men jumped on him. He threw one off, but two more piled on where that one had been. Then there were five guys on Bucky. She saw an electric flash at the end of a long handle. Two of the men were driving him to his knees with cattle prods while the others held him in place.

“Semnadtsat’.”

“Stop it!” she screamed at the man with the book. She'd never felt quite so powerless.

“Run, Darcy!” Bucky's voice was smothered by the men hanging off him, but she could hear his absolute terror at what was happening. Each time he threw a man off, another took the man's place.

“Rassvet.”

It was a mistake. She should have never talked him into coming. She'd been so stupid, thinking nothing bad could happen. And now he was going to lose his life again, and all because of her.

“Pech’. Devyat’. Dobrokachestvennaya.”

She couldn't seem to get her legs to cooperate with her mind. How many words had he read? How many were left? Three? Four? Darcy knew she needed to run. Bucky couldn't help himself, must less her. She needed to get away and find help for him. A man broke off from the group, trudging through the sand to cover the yards between the pile of men on Bucky and her.

“Vozvrashcheniye domoy. Odin.”

Bucky screamed and sent three men skidding across the sand toward the lapping water. Darcy stumbled back and tripped, falling on her ass as the man approached, sneering at her.

“Gruzovoy avtomobil’.”

Suddenly everything froze. The roiling mass of bodies trying to subdue Bucky without much luck stopped moving. The man approaching her turned his head to look over his shoulder. The asshole on the patio wall above looked down at the circle of men now backing off from a very still Bucky.

She could see Bucky through a break in bodies. “Soldat?” the man above questioned, tilting his head to the side.

Bucky’s face and torso were smeared with blood. His chest was heaving, and he looked downright terrifying. All the breath left her body when he looked over at her. The light from the patio glinted off his eyes, eyes that didn't seem as empty as they should. Hope sparked in her. It soon lit into a flame when she saw Bucky give the men around him a feral, vicious grin.

That was the last she saw of him for a moment because in the next second he'd reached out and killed a man with his bare hands and everyone scattered.

“Soldat! Soldat!”

The man above them with the book seemed panicked now, his voice rising in volume and pitch. “Fuck you,” Darcy muttered, pushing herself to her feet.

Gunshots rang out again. She heard the now familiar sound of bullets deflecting off his left arm. It was like music to her ears. As long as they hit his arm, then he'd be okay.

The man who'd been coming for her, turned back to close the final few feet between them. He had a pistol out, and Darcy wasn't so stupid she didn't see what was coming. He'd use her as leverage with Bucky. Well, not on her watch. When he was just one stride away, she dropped to her knees and lunged forward to grab his junk, twisting his balls tight in her fist. He screamed bloody murder and stumbled back.

His gun fell in the sand to her left. Before she even had a chance to scramble for it as a way to protect herself from the man kneeling in front of her, Bucky was standing next to him

“Turn your head,” he told her.

“Why?”

“You don't want to see his.”

She slammed her eyelids closed and whipped her head to the side a second before the sound of a gunshot a couple feet away almost deafened her. When she opened her eyes and dared a look, her would-be attacker was facedown in the sand with the side of his skull blown open. Bucky was already scaling the wall to hunt down the man with the book and any others that had fled.

Darcy crawled away from the body on her hands and knees. She made it to where the sand was wet and kept crawling until she could feel the waves on her hands, and then on her knees. She couldn't hear the rush of the water, but the warmth of the waves made her feel better, gave her some sort of anchor in the nightmare of shadows and blood and violence.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

“Darcy?”

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Her brain felt numb. The world felt distant. She was still kneeling at the water’s edge. Most of the waves rushed up and licked at her legs and the tips of her fingers. Her arms were hanging uselessly at her sides. The ringing in her ears was abating, and she was wondering if Bucky was okay when she heard the muted voice say her name.

Her chest was wet. Her face was wet, and so was her hair. She vaguely remembered cupping her hands and using them to pour salty ocean water on herself as the waves licked at her knees. Why? She looked down at her camisole to see what looked like rust on the lace and in blotches down the front. Blood. She remembered the deafening sound of the gun and the spray of blood. She’d tried to wash it away. It hadn’t worked.

Looking up and to the side, she saw a man in a pair of jeans and a white tee. The shirt was too tight. The man was too big. Steve Rogers. The man was Captain America. She’d never said more than a handful of words to him. She didn’t even realize Steve Rogers knew her name.

“Darcy?” he asked again, squatting down so his eyes were almost level with hers.

“Hi,” she said.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so,” Darcy replied, looking down at her body again. She was still in the pajamas she’d worn to bed with Bucky. Not exactly appropriate attire for sitting on the beach with Captain America.

He extended a hand to her. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Is… is Bucky okay?”

Steve pulled in a deep breath and exhaled it before saying, “He’s safe. Just some bruises and a superficial wound where a bullet skimmed his right shoulder.”

“Oh.”

“Darcy, you’re in shock. Why don’t you come with me?”

She looked over her shoulder, suddenly remembering the mess behind her. The body of the man who’d tried to attack her was still sprawled on the beach. In the lightening sky, she could make out a dark spot next to him that was probably blood. She felt nauseous.

“Hey,” Steve said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She looked behind them again and saw a group of people moving around the beach in front of the house. Darcy couldn’t decide if they were cops or FBI or Homeland Security or some other government agency. They looked like they were cleaning up, canvassing for evidence, taking notes. Bodies were everywhere. I looked like a war zone.

“Where is Bucky?” she asked.

“Inside.”

“Can I see him?”

Steve gave her a sad smile. “He’s having a tough time right now. I think maybe it’s best if he’s left alone.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t you come with me. We’ll get you some clothes and have a doctor check you out.”

Darcy frowned. “Okay.” She looked down at Steve’s hand before taking it and letting him pull her to her feet. Her legs and knees ached from kneeling too long in the sand.

He noticed she was slow to move and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Do you need help?” Steve asked.

Shaking her head, she said, “No. Just… I’m fine. I’d like to see Bucky.”

He let her lean on him as they made their way up the beach, swinging out wide to keep away from the activity just to the left of the stairs, to keep away from the bodies.

Sam was standing on the patio, his hands on his hips as he talked to a man in a suit. He pulled away when he saw Darcy make her way up the stairs with Steve’s help. “Hey, Darcy. You okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” she told him, pulling away from Steve. “Where is Bucky?”

“He’s fine. He just needs some time alone.” Sam bent his knees and hunched his back over in an attempt to bring his eyes level with hers. “You sure you’re okay?”

“He says I’m in shock,” she said. “And my ears are still ringing a little.”

“You ears will get better soon. Just give it a few more minutes. We’re gonna take you over to have medical take a look at you, okay?”

“Can I see Bucky?”

Sam looked at Steve before turning his gaze back to her. “Later.”

“He doesn’t want to see me,” she stated. It wasn’t a question. She knew he blamed her for what had happened. He’d told her it would go down like this. She’d pushed and pushed. Pushed him like she’d done that night he drank Thor’s booze. So stupid and so unwilling to believe him.

“No,” Steve said. “That’s not true, Darcy. He’s… he’s trying to cope with what happened. He just needs some time to think things through.”

She didn’t believe Steve Rogers and his kind words for a second, but she let him lead her into the house. A woman was standing by the dining table with a obscenely large first aid kit laid out. Darcy was told to sit down in one of the chairs while the woman checked her eyes and the bruise on her right thigh. She didn’t remember hitting it on anything. Things were moving so quickly there for a bit. When she was given a clean bill of health, Steve pulled a chair up to sit in front of her.

“Can we ask you some questions about what happened?”

Darcy nodded before glancing up to see Sam standing just behind Steve. “Did one of the men who broke into the house have a book?” Sam asked.

“Yes, he read the words.”

“What words?” Steve asked, resting his forearms on his knees.

“The words. Bucky’s words. The ones that he was telling me about.”

“In English?” Sam asked.

She shook her head. “No, in Russian.”

“How do you know they were the words?”

“Bucky’s reaction. It was obvious they hurt him. The words hurt him.”

Steve sat up and leveled his gaze on her. “Did they finish reading them?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” The two men listened as she explained what had happened, how they’d all frozen when they’d expected Bucky to go into his Winter Soldier trance, how Bucky had proceeded to rip them apart afterward.

Sam looked down at Steve. “That’s what he said. I don’t think he was imagining it, Steve.”

“Did he do something to block himself from hearing them?”

“No. He heard them. He was afraid,” she told Steve. “It just didn’t change him.” It wasn’t until that moment that Darcy realized the importance of what she’d just told them. In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t had time to consider what had happened. She hadn’t found relief that Bucky wouldn’t be turned into a weapon against her. She hadn’t had time to think about the one thing he’d been striving for: control. It hadn’t even occurred to her that he’d won back his control in that moment. “Oh,” she said, smiling. “That’s good, right? He–he’s free.”

Steve smiled back at her. “Seems that way. We weren’t sure. He’s a little shaken up and doesn’t want to talk to us. We just wanted to make sure he wasn’t remembering it wrong.”

“Your idea worked,” she told Sam.

Sam shook his head and smiled down at her. “I don’t think I’ve got much to do with it, Darcy.”

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

She was sitting in the middle of the white sofa twisting the sleeves of the jacket Steve had given her between her fingers as a parade of people came and went. Fingerprints were taken, photos were snapped, bodies were–presumably–carried off using the gated side exit off the pool. Her ears had stopped ringing and the fog of numbness she’d been in since just after the attack was starting to lift. Anxiety and guilt were rushing in to take its place.

“What the fuck, kiddo?”

Darcy looked up to see Tony standing across the room from her.

She deflated. “Tony, I’m so sorry. I wrecked your house.” She was all too aware of the broken glass and busted doors and bent railings. There was even blood on the concrete patio from the man Bucky had pulled off the balcony. “I… I should have told you. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I just–I didn’t want you to be mad that I wanted to bring Bucky. We… we were attacked, and I swear I didn’t mean for any of this–”

“Darcy. Darcy, woah, woah, woah. Slow down.”

She pulled in a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it, kid. I’m not mad.”

“But–”

He waved his hand in the air and walked over to plop down into the armchair next to the couch. “No buts. We’re straight. I heard Buckaroo didn’t go all Manchurian Candidate on you.”

“Uh, no.”

“Cap and Birdman say you’ve been helping him get over all that bullshit.”

“I haven’t… I mean, I haven’t done anything. I’ve just been listening.”

“Well, you did something. You’re the only new variable.”

Darcy bent over and put her head between her knees. “I fucked up, and I think he hates me,” she mumbled to the floor. “Why don't you hate me for sneaking him into your house?”

“Sneak? Come on, you can't keep stuff from me. FRIDAY told me you left with Barnes.” Tony snorted. “Sneaking him into my house. Really. I knew you had the hots for soldier boy back when you tried pumping me for info.”

Darcy jerked her head up. “But I was subtle.”

“About as subtle as a bullhorn. Kid, you're as obvious as they come.”

“Tony, please just stop talking.”

“Come on,” he said, pushing himself out of the chair. “I'm taking you home.”

“No. I’m staying to clean up your house.”

“Nope. Might put it on the market now that you got HYDRA all over it.”

Darcy looked up at him. “Tony.”

“Come on, get up. I don't even like this house. The place in Malibu is better. Let's go home.”

She stood up and sighed. “I want to talk to Bucky.”

“He’s getting his head straight, kiddo. You need to give him some space.”

She finally relented and packed her bag. Bucky was nowhere to be found, so she left with Tony. He drove her back to Manhattan in his low profile red sports car that took curves with grace. He pushed the speed limit a little too much, but Darcy couldn't seem to find the energy to chastise him or enjoy it. Her old self would have enjoyed it.

He left her at her apartment door, saying, “Give Barnes some time to come around.”

She sat on her couch all morning long and well into the afternoon with the TV on, but not really holding her attention. She finally gave up on waiting for Bucky and took a shower to get the grim and residual blood off her body. When she crawled into bed and closed her eyes, she saw the flashes of heat from gun muzzles and fists flying through the air. Getting up and standing at the bathroom sink, her hands clutching the marble vanity and the water running, helped calm her. The third time she found herself looking at her face in the glow from the row of round bulbs above the mirror, she decided she would need some sleeping pills to get any shut eye.

Instead of going back to bed, she curled up on the couch with a blanket. She itched to pick up her phone and call Bucky. The main problem was that she didn't have his number. She was also concerned that he hated her. That was a very real possibility. Probability.

Just as she was reaching out to pick up the remote to flip the TV on, her phone screen lit up with a call. It was Sam's number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Darcy. Did I wake you?”

“No. Can't sleep. What's up?”

“You okay? You need to talk?” he asked.

Darcy groaned. “Stop doing the therapy on me. I'm fine.”

“I'm just saying, I'm here if you need to talk.”

“I'm fine.”

“Okay. I believe you.”

“Is that why you called?” she asked, feeling that crush of disappointment that Bucky still didn't want to talk to her.

Sam cleared his throat. “No, actually. I'm gonna put you on speaker. Okay?”

“Whatever,” Darcy replied.

She heard a click and then the sound of some shuffling. “You there?”

“Yep,” she said.

“Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Yep,” she repeated.

“Did Barnes scare you?”

She jerked her head back at the unexpected question. “Uh, he was scary, but not to me. Why?”

“You asked Steve and I about him after… what happened. Why?”

She exhaled in frustration. “Well, I was worried about him. I wanted to make sure he was okay. Is he?”

“Yeah, he's okay. You still wanna see him?”

“What kind of fucking question is that? Of course I do. I don't think he wants to see me, though. I mean, all this is my fault. If I hadn't hounded him about coming with me, then–”

“It ain't your fault, doll.”

Darcy froze with the phone pressed tight to her ear. “Bucky?” she asked, her voice sounding strangled.

“He doesn't believe us that you asked to see him,” Sam said. “I thought he might if he heard it from your mouth.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

“Are you okay?”

He didn't say anything for a moment. Finally, he said, “Yeah, I'm okay. Could I come over? I know it's late, but–”

“Yes, come over. Please. I need to see you.”

“Okay.” A moment later, he was gone, disconnected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done! I hope you've enjoyed the ride. :-)


	14. Chapter 14

> _“I burnt so many memories just to make room for any thoughts of caressing your sweet anatomy as we sleep. The taste you left on my teeth, your breath across my left cheek, the feeling chemically.” - Borns (Dug My Heart)_

She stood in the doorway and waited for him, completely unaware she was just wearing an oversized T-shirt that she’d thrown on after her shower. Darcy’s hair was still a bit damp, and the breeze from the air vents in the hallway made her shiver.

After what felt like an hour, but was likely less than five minutes, the door to the stairwell just around the corner opened. She leaned out into the hallway to look for him just as he turned down toward her apartment. When he looked up and saw her, his steps faltered and his jaw tightened. She could see the anxiety and stress weighing on him.

When he stopped in front of her doorway, she said, “I’m sorry for making you go.”

“Aww, doll, no. You didn’t make me go,” he murmured, looking down at her with those sad eyes. “I _wanted_ to go.”

“But I talked you into it. This is my fault.”

“It ain’t your fault. Don’t apologize to me. I came here to apologize to _you_.”

She frowned. “What for?”

“For what I did back there. I… You shouldn’t have had to see that. I should have stayed with you. I fucked up.”

“What?” she repeated, furrowing her brows. “No. You didn’t– I mean, I… You _saved_ me.”

“I shot a man right in front of your face.” His voice was flat, but his eyes were full of regret.

Darcy laughed softly and shook her head. “Okay, yeah. That was a little over the top, but–”

“Over the top? Darcy, that was out of line. You should be tellin’ me to leave.”

She stepped back into the apartment. “I’d rather you come in. I was so worried about you.”

He braced his left hand on the doorframe and sighed. It wasn’t until then that she saw just how tired he looked. She’d been so happy to see him whole and healthy that the strain on his face and the way he was holding himself didn’t register. Even in the clean T-shirt and sweatpants, he looked beaten down with a weight on his shoulders that she didn’t know how to lift.

“I didn’t believe them–Steve and Sam–that you were askin’ about me. I thought you’d think I was a monster.”

She shut the door after he came inside. Hanging his head, he walked over to her couch and stood beside it awkwardly. Darcy felt like they’d been through too much together for him to feel like he couldn’t be at ease with her. “What made you finally believe them? Sam calling me on speaker a few minutes ago?” she asked as she walked over to stand near him.

Bucky gave her a strained smile. “Yes and no. It was Stark for the most part.”

“Tony?”

“Yeah, he told me I needed to come talk to you because you were worried about me.”

“Well, isn’t that what Steve and Sam told you?”

“Yeah, but Stark doesn’t like me. He wouldn’t lie to make me feel better.”

She laughed softly and shook her head. “You're in a sorry state if your friends are lying to you.”

“You're my friend, so I think I might be doin’ pretty good.” He wouldn't look at her when he said it. Instead, he kept his eyes on the floor between them and his hands deep in the pockets of her sweatpants.

“We should do what friends do and listen to some music in bed,” she suggested when she remembered their conversation from the previous night.

“You, uh, you want to do that? With me?”

“Mmm hmm. Why wouldn't I?”

“Thought you might be scared of me,” Bucky admitted. “After what you saw me do.”

“Not afraid. Come to bed.”

He swallowed hard enough for her to see his Adam's apple rise and fall. “Okay.”

She tilted her head at him. “Really? It's that easy to get you into bed?”

“You got me in bed last night.”

Darcy considered. “Hmm, that's true. But I thought you'd beat yourself up a little more this time around.”

“Oh, I'm beating myself up. Don't doubt that, doll.” He glanced away shyly. “I just have a hard time telling you no.”

She grinned. “Good to know. Tell me your other weaknesses.”

“Just you now, doll. Just you.”

She reached out and took his left hand, tugging him toward her bedroom. It should have felt strange to grab the metal fingers. The way they easily curved around her hand should have made her uneasy. Instead, it just felt right. She let go of him to flip the messy covers back. “What do you mean ‘just’ me now?”

Darcy slipped into the bed and motioned for him to join her. Bucky gingerly sat down on the opposite side, facing away from her. “The triggers didn't work.”

She waited until he settled onto his back, shoulder to shoulder with her. “I saw that. I'm happy for you.”

“When you were there on the beach and he started… reading them.... I was… I thought they’d make me kill you just to see if they still had me under control.” His eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling above the bed.

“So, Sam’s therapy worked?” Darcy asked, shifting until she was on her side and looking at his profile. She was close enough to see the stubble growing out of his jawline. His hair was clumped together and just a little damp like hers.

“You worked,” he replied, turning to face her.

She smiled. “I worked? What did I do?”

“You replaced one of the memories.”

“What do you mean?”

“When they start saying the triggers, I… I can feel it. I start feeling… anxious, constriction. I don’t know how to explain it. I just… feel like I’m shutting down, that my... “ He sighed roughly. “I don’t know. I just feel it.”

“And you didn’t this time?” she asked.

Bucky shook his head against the pillow. “No, I _did_. Until he said daybreak.”

Her own memory of watching the sunrise over Manhattan from the flight deck with his arm around her popped into the forefront of her mind. “Oh,” she said. “Coffee and muffins?”

“And you.”

That made her smile again. “That was a good morning. We should do it again sometime.”

“Doll,” he said on an exhale. “I don’t think you realize how much you’ve done for me.”

Darcy shifted her body closer and wrapped her arms around him. He lifted his body up just enough that she could work one arm between him and the mattress. There was no hesitation as he pulled her closer and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“You gave me back my freedom,” Bucky whispered against her skin, his breath hot on her neck. “It’s been so long since I’ve had it.”

“You took your freedom back,” she insisted.

He pressed an open-mouth kiss to her neck. As he lingered there, she shivered at the sensation. “I couldn’t have without you. I feel like I owe you my fuckin’ life,” he whispered. “I wish I could give you everything you ever wanted, and that wouldn’t even be enough to thank you.”

Pulling back to look at him, Darcy said, “A thank you is enough.”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone on the beach back there. I… I shouldn’t have killed those guys in front of you. Are you… You’re awake because you can’t stop seeing it again, aren’t you?”

She wiggled until her arms were free and she could press one to his chest while the other rearranged his messy hair. “It’s not so bad. I’ll get over it.”

He pulled her closer, like she could even get any closer. “I’m fuckin’ up your life. Makin’ you cry,” he said, swiping the flesh thumb of his right hand over her cheek. She hadn’t even realized that tears were leaking out of her eyes. “Givin’ you nightmares. Leavin’ you in shock on the beach because I was too scared to face you after you saw me like that.”

“Dude,” she said, laughing through the tears. “My life was already fucked up. You’re making it better.”

His eyes were wide and so soulful, but the corners of his mouth were lifting up into a sweet smile. “I don’t see how I could do anything but make it worse.”

“Well, sometimes you’re blind when it comes to you. So, take my word for it. You’re making it better.” His lips parted, and she moved her hand on her chest up to slap it over his mouth. “Don’t you argue with me, Bucky Barnes.”

She pulled her hand away when she felt the tip of his tongue on her palm. “You’re bossy,” he told her, flashing a genuine smile that reached his eyes.

“You bet your ass I am. How else do you think I work with Jane and Tony and Bruce?”

He chuckled. “Okay, I won’t argue with you. You’re the boss.”

Darcy wiggled her eyebrows. “The boss, huh?”

“Don’t get any crazy ideas, doll.”

She sighed and shifted closer, causing Bucky to roll onto his back and pull her up against his side. Darcy laid her head on his chest and hooked her leg over both of his. After a moment of content silence, she said, “So, how did they find you?”

“Best we can tell, the guard at the gate.”

“The security guard?” she asked, lifting her head up and resting her chin on his chest so she could see his face.

“Yeah. He worked the day shift on the day we arrived and the evening shift on the second day. HYDRA questioned the other guard and then came back and questioned the guard who saw me. And then, a few hours later, they broke into the house.”

“I didn’t think he saw you.”

“He said he did when he stepped up to take your license. I had my hat pulled down, but he saw me. Guess I was tryin’ to not be so paranoid, so I tried not to think much of it. HYDRA operatives came by in police uniforms yesterday evening, askin’ if he’d seen a man with you. I don’t think they expected to get an affirmative answer. I don’t know how they confirmed it was me, but… they did.”

“And the security system?”

“They disabled the audio alarm, but not anything else,” Bucky replied. “Stark’s computer told the team what happened right when they breached the security system. It’s how Steve and Sam got there so quickly. Stark was at a charity thing and left early. He was worried about you.”

“He’s like my big brother,” she said. “Maybe he’ll remember me in his will.”

Bucky chuckled and tightened his arm around her.

Darcy laid her head back down, her ear pressed close to his heart. “I’m sorry I made you come.”

“No, doll. No sorries. In the end, I’m glad I did. It forced me out of my comfort zone, and now I know I can fight them, that they can’t control me. It was all worth it as long as it didn’t scare you off.”

She lightly trailed her index finger down his breastbone and tapped it on his stomach. “I don’t scare that easy.”

“I shoulda known since you weren’t scared of me at all, even in the beginning.”

Darcy rubbed her leg against his. “What’s there to be scared of? You’re a teddy bear.” She wrapped her arm around his torso. “Very snuggly.”

His chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Only for you, doll.”

“Mmm, that’s just what I wanted to hear. Wanna make out?”

He laughed again. “I thought we were going to listen to music, but you ain’t put any music on.”

“I know. It was all a ploy to get you into bed. I haven’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, and I figured if you didn’t wanna make out we could just sleep.” She looked up at him, pressing her chin into his chest again. “I would like to formally say that I would prefer making out and then sleeping, but just sleeping is also acceptable.”

“What makes you think you can sleep now? Weren't you having trouble?”

“You're here, and that makes me feel safe.”

He didn't say anything for a long moment, and then he said, “I couldn't sleep either. Thought seeing you would help.”

She pushed out her bottom lip in a pout. “So, sleeping, not making out.”

Bucky lifted his head off the pillow and caught her protruding lip between his own, giving it a little nip with his teeth. “I never said that.”

She laughed breathily and kissed him back, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like coffee and mints. “Good,” she whispered against his cheek as she scattered kisses over his face. The stubble on his jaw and chin was rough against her sensitive lips, even if it did make him look hot as hell.

“I absolutely don't deserve you,” he said, taking her face in his hands and guiding her back to his mouth so he could kiss her until she was gasping for breath.

She nipped at his full lower lip. “But you got me anyway.”

His fingers flexed, and he slid his right hand behind her head to pull her in for another lingering kiss full of tongue and teeth and lips.

She hiked her leg a little further up his body and felt his hardening erection pressing against the fabric of the sweats. “Is that for me?” she teased, giving him a wink when they'd pulled back from the breathless kiss he'd given her.

“Mmm, hmm,” he agreed, moving his hand over her body, tracing the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts that were pressed against him.

She shifted in his arms, mostly on top of his very sexy and very distracting body, and brushed a hand over his cock inside his loose sweatpants. His hips bucked up as soon as she grazed the material with her fingertips.

“Doll, you're gonna kill me,” he warned. He didn't stop her touching, didn't turn away like he had last night, didn't grab her wrist to keep her from feeling him. Instead, he flexed his hips and bit his lower lip.

“You’ve had a really bad day,” she whispered, shifting so she was fully on top of him, one knee between his legs.

“Well, I had a bad morning when my time with you got interrupted. But, technically, it’s tomorrow, so…. I’m having a pretty good day right now.”

“Can I make it better?”

He chuckled and looked up at her with pure happiness his his eyes. “You already are.”

“I mean _really_ better.”

Bucky raised his brows. “How much better could it get?”

Using a hand on his chest, she pushed herself up until she was kneeling, straddling his right leg. “So, like, you messed around back in the day, right?”

She felt his left hand skim over her ass before it settled right underneath where her cheek curved into her thigh. “I guess. Ain’t like I never kissed a girl before.”

“Well, obviously,” Darcy replied. “You’re a pro at kissing. But was it all, like, touching over the clothes or…”

“Darcy,” he said, a warning in his voice, but a stubborn smile still playing at his lips.

She gave him a look of exasperation. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re going to go all blushing virgin on me if I try to give you a BJ.”

“Doll, what is a BJ?”

Darcy grinned wickedly before she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his breastbone, feeling the heat of his body beneath the fabric of the thin shirt. She trailed her mouth down until she could lift up the hem and kiss his bare stomach with parted lips.

As she hooked a finger in the waistband of his sweats, he said, “Oh,” as if finally understanding what she meant.

She could feel his erection tenting the loose material of the pants. “Oh?” she asked. “Oh yes? Or, oh no?”

He slid the fingers of his right hand through her hair. “Uh, I don’t know what the question is.”

Laughing, Darcy said, “Oh yes, continue? Oh no, stop?”

“You don’t…”

“Nope,” she replied. “Don’t argue with me. Red light, green light.”

“Green light,” he immediately said.

With her hands on his hips, she urged him to lift up. When he did, she pulled down his sweats and the boxers underneath until the waistband cut across his thighs. His cock was just as large as she’d imagine when she'd felt it against her or seen it tenting his pants. It laid against his stomach, looking hard and heavy and ready for her. Licking her lips, she took the base of it in her right hand.

“Oh my god,” he breathed out. She looked up to see him staring down his body at her hand around him.

“Okay?” she asked.

He laughed nervously. “Yeah, doll. Very okay. I’ve been to third base before.”

“Third base as in… touching or licking.”

His eyes widened.

Darcy widened her eyes right back. “What? There’s debate over third base.”

“Touching,” he finally said. “Third base is touching.”

She laughed and shook her head. “It is so strange to see you lying there like the sexiest guy that ever walked the planet, telling me about whether third base is a handjob or a blowjob like a horny fifteen-year-old.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” he said with a smile. “I’m an old man. Things were different. And, I’m not that innocent. I _have_ had a handjob before.”

“Hmm,” she said, squeezing his cock as she moved her hand up to his tip and then back down. He sucked in a sharp breath. “So, no blowjobs, huh?” she asked.

“Darcy.” He said her name like a warning again.

She grinned at him before leaning forward and using her hand on him to guide the tip of his cock into her mouth.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he muttered. When she looked up through her lashes, his head was thrown back, the tendons in his neck standing out, the muscles of his jaw tight.

He tasted salty and musky and _good_. She hadn’t done this in too long. With all the chasing after Jane and the life-threatening situations, she wasn’t exactly spending much time dating. Pressing her tongue against the vein running the length of his cock, she sucked as she raised her head.

“Darcy…” he said, his voice sounded strangled and rough. “Doll…” His right hand was buried in her hair, urging her on, and his left hand was fisting the duvet that was bunched up around them.

She let him slip out of her mouth with a pop, and then she worked him with her hand, her saliva acting as a lubricant. His cock was unbearably perfect, just like the rest of him, and she felt that tensing of her core as she thought about how he'd feel inside her.

“You… need to stop,” Bucky said, tightening his hand in her hair.

“Why?” she asked, leaning down and flicking her tongue over his tip.

“You're gonna make me come.” His breathing was heavy and labored.

She smiled at him as she looked up his body, seeing the way his chest was heaving. “That's the goal. Or… Oh, did you have plans for tonight that require your boner? I thought I was just making you feel better after a shitty day. I didn't know you planned on losing your V card.”

She parted her lips and guided him back into her mouth. “Doll, I can't fuckin’ think straight with your mouth on me like that. I don't have a clue what a V card is.”

“Virginity,” she told him before tilting her head and pressing open-mouthed kisses along the side of his cock.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ,” he said, arching his back and lifting his hips up just slightly.

Darcy smiled to herself as she took him back in her mouth and bobbed her head up and down, her fist gripping the base of his shaft. She could feel the tension in his body. He was strung as tight as a piano wire. She had thought he was close, but she knew it was moments away when she felt both his hands as they held either side of her head. He wasn't forceful or demanding, but he did seem to want to set the rhythm. She left him.

“Darcy…” he said, growling out her name as he came, spilling himself into her mouth. Reflexively, she swallowed when she pulled back and let his softening cock fall out of her mouth.

“So,” she said, kneeling over him, still straddling one of his legs, “better than a handjob?”

He laughed as he reached up and fisted his left hand in her shirt. She squealed when he pulled her down on top of him. His right hand went to the back of her head, guiding her so he could kiss her senseless. Suddenly he was everywhere, his cybernetic arm wrapped around her and pinning her against his hard body beneath her, his hand holding her so he could plunder her mouth with his tongue, nip at her lips with his teeth. She groaned in pleasure, feeling the throb between her legs at just the prospect of him taking her.

Darcy rocked her hips on his thigh that was nestled right up against her pussy. She needed more friction if she was going to get herself off. Coming back to her mind for a moment, she faltered. This was about him, not her. He was the one who had gone through some traumatic shit in the past twenty-four hours. He was the one who had never had sex before. A handjob from a prim and proper girl the thirties was _not_ sex.

“Will you let me taste you?” Bucky asked, scattering wet kisses across her cheek and over her jaw until her got to her earlobe. “Please, doll.”

“This is about you,” she said, touching his rough five o’clock shadow with the tips of her fingers.

He let his right hand move from her head, down her neck, through the valley between her breasts, and over her stomach. “That's what I want. Can I have what I want?” he whispered, wiggling his fingers between their bodies to slip them under the waistband of her panties. Darcy pressed both hands to his chest as she lifted herself up off him. The space she created between them let Bucky slide his hand into her panties and right over her slit. She gasped at the exact same moment he groaned.

“Bucky,” she managed to say as she tilted her hips to give him better access.

“You’re so wet, so hot,” he replied, looking up at her as if in awe of what he was being permitted to do.

She sank her front teeth into her lower lip when his fumbling, exploring fingers grazed up against her clit. “You made me that way,” Darcy told him.

Bucky dipped his index and middle fingers into her before pulling his hand out of her underwear and shoving those two fingers in his mouth. She stared down in wonderment as he devoured his hand, licking and sucking on his fingers. “Let me taste you, doll. I wanna see you. You're so fuckin’ beautiful.”

She felt the heat in her cheeks at his unabashed worship of her. Darcy looked down to see him pulling at her panties. She leaned forward and shifted until he had them over her knees and then off her body completely. Feeling like a doll being undressed, she lifted her arms as he jerked her shirt off.

“I want you on me,” Bucky said, a pleading quality to his voice. “Straddle me.”

She was dripping wet at the idea of throwing her leg over his waist and settling down on the length of his cock as he bottomed out deep inside her. In fact, Darcy thought there was a damn good chance she'd come immediately when she felt his cock stretching her. She eagerly lifted a leg and straddled his narrow hips. Reaching down, she grabbed his cock, which was beginning to stir to life again, hoping it would make a quick recovery if she rubbed herself against him.

She yelped in surprise when Bucky grabbed her upper arms and pulled her up his body until she was sitting on his chest, her legs spread wide. He had a revealing view of her pussy, and she watched him take it in as he licked his lips. “I want you up here,” he told her, hands on her hips as he pulled her closer to his mouth.

Suddenly, she was wide open for him, her shins on his shoulders and her knees digging into the mattress on either side of his head. Bucky exhaled a hot breath on the inside of her thigh before raising his head and kissing the lips of her pussy.

“Ohmigod,” she gasped, pressing her hands against the wall above the headboard.

He licked her, gently at first, and then with more pressure, thrusting his tongue as deep as he could go. The movement rubbed his nose up against her clit and made Darcy let loose filthy moans and groans of pleasure. When he pulled back to breathe, she felt two fingers of his right hand enter her. “Did I mention I've done this before?” he asked, lips moving over her clit.

“No,” she replied through clenched teeth. “Thought you were a blushing virgin.”

“Only halfway. Figured I'd better show you I can make you come with my mouth in case I disappoint in other areas.” With that said, Bucky sucked her clit between his lips, rubbing the side of his tongue along it as his fingers pumped in and out of her.

She couldn't think straight with him working her with his mouth and fingers like that. “I want you inside me,” she murmured, her voice breaking on the last word.

“Come for me first, doll. You taste so fuckin’ good. Come on, let me feel you.”

His rough voice paired with the way he opened his mouth and licked her like he wanted to devour her made Darcy come apart on top of him. She cried out as her orgasm washed over her body.

Collapsing against the wall, she tried to regain her breath. Bucky placed sweet, lingering kisses on the lips of her soaked pussy and the insides of her quivering thighs. “Stop, stop,” she whispered, “you're gonna kill me if you make me come again.”

He laughed and released her so she could shimmy down his torso until she was straddling his abdomen again. She buried her face in his neck, trying to will away any awkward feelings about having basically sat on his face.

“Did I make you feel good?” he asked softly, brushing her wild hair down her back and into some semblance of order. From there his fingers glided across the skin on her sides, tracing the curves of her body from her waist to the swell of her breasts pressed against his chest.

She would have thought he was gloating with that question if it weren't for the tenderness and uncertainty in his voice. It was still difficult to reconcile this man who had a soft voice and gentle hands with the one who had torn through twenty or more men before shooting one in the head just two feet from her face. He was all contradictions, but that just made her want him more. He was different–more–than anyone she’d ever met before.

“You know you did,” she finally answered, kissing his neck before inhaling the scent of his body.

“Good,” he whispered in her ear as his left hand drifted down to cup her ass. “I want to… I want you to…”

She lifted her head and pulled her face from the warmth of his neck. “What do you want?”

“You to have everything you want,” he murmured, his lips barely moving.

“I want you, but not if you’re just trying to pay me back. I don’t need paid back because I didn’t do anything.”

“You did so much, doll. You’re the only reason I’m free right now.” He pushed her hair back away from her face when it tumbled over her shoulder. “But I didn’t get you naked to thank you.”

Darcy smiled and shifted her hips on him. “Why’d you get me naked?”

His cybernetic hand tightened, grabbing a handful of her ass, while the fingertips of his right skimmed over her spine. “Because I wanted you.”

“Wanted?”

“Want. Still want. Always will.”

She laughed softly. “I don’t know about that. Always?”

“Always. No question.”

She felt like she was flying high on some drug. Darcy had gone through her share of dates and boyfriends, but none of them had ever made her feel like she was so necessary to his life than Bucky did with just a few words and the barest of touches.

“How come you’re still dressed?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m shy?” he said, his voice lilting up as if it were a question.

She dropped her forehead to his and laughed. He joined in almost immediately, chuckling and wrapping his arms around her. When he shifted his hips to get more comfortable, she felt the press of his erection in the crease between her ass and thigh. It had only been a brief moment of contact, but she could tell he was hard as a rock.

Pushing herself to a sitting position straddling his abdomen, she looked down at his face. His eyes were skimming down her body and his gaze tripped up on her breasts. “Jesus, doll…” he muttered. “What the fuck are you doin’ wastin’ all your time on me? You’re gorgeous.” Both his hands lifted as if of their own accord and cupped her tits, lifting gently to weigh them in his palms.

Darcy didn’t normally blush, but she felt that flush in her cheeks at the way he’d blurted out his thoughts. “Obviously, you haven’t looked in the mirror lately. You’re hot as fuck,” she replied, reaching around behind her, blindly feeling for his cock. It didn’t take much work; it was resting on his lower abdomen, the head of it nestled between the cheeks of her ass.

“Doll,” he warned, his left hand going on her hip.

“What?” she asked, batting innocent eyes at him. “Take your shirt off.”

He lifted up and pulled the material off by gripping the back of the shirt just below his neck. She giggled as he tossed it across the room. His skin was sun-kissed and flawless with the exception of the area closest to the cybernetic arm and shoulder.

Darcy tightened her grip on him. “Your pants are still halfway on,” she told him.

Buck smiled at her before pushing himself up to a seated position and wrapping his left arm around her while he used her right to push the sweats the rest of the way down his thighs. She was jostled on his lap, losing her grip on his cock, when when kicked the pants off.

His forearms were like steel against her back as he tilted his face up to kiss her. He still tasted like her musky scent, but she didn’t mind. Truthfully, it just turned her on more to know that he was hers. “I wanna feel you inside me,” she told him, their lips still touching and their breathing heavy.

“I… I don’t wanna disappoint you, doll. I’m… so turned on right now I don’t… I can’t… I’ve never done this.”

“Not a problem,” she replied before biting down gently on his lower lip. “Just lie back and let me show you.”

His eyes were dark with huge black pupils in the dim lighting of her bedroom. “Yes ma’am,” he said, lying down, but keeping his hands on her hips.

“Stop that,” she teased. “You’re making yes ma’am sound too sexy.”

“I’m trying to show respect here since you’re my instructor,” he replied with a grin.

“Oh yeah, sex ed instructor?” She moved back and lifted up to better position herself over him.

His jaw tightened and the muscles in his neck tensed. “Yes, ma’am.” Bucky’s voice was strangled and clipped.

“You’re kinda big,” Darcy said, chewing on her lower lip as she took him in her hand.

“Sorry?”

She laughed. “No, not sorry,” she told him. “Definitely do not be sorry.”

“Fuck, doll,” he muttered as she rubbed the head of his cock against the lips of her pussy. “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop playing with me.”

His right hand moved up to pinch her left nipple. It made her gasp and spurred her into action. She lifted up and pointed his cock so she could drop herself down on it. The sensation of him stretching her pussy made Darcy’s groan get caught up in her throat.

“Darcy,” Bucky gasped, throwing his head back into the pillow underneath him. “Ahh, fuck.”

It took a little bit of rocking to take all of him. She pressed her palms onto his bare chest and shifted her hips, feeling the pressure of having him inside. It was delicious to feel so full and have it be _him_ inside her. “Oh my god, Bucky…”

“Doll, sweetheart, I… I can’t even think with you… Damn.” His fingers were biting hard into her hips. She might have little fingertip-sized bruises there tomorrow, but it felt so good right now.

She leaned forward and and rocked back and forth to create some friction. “Fuck, you feel amazing,” she whispered, looking down into his face.

He growled and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down against his chest and lifting his hips up to thrust into her. She couldn’t hold back her moan, which seemed to only spur him on. In the space of a breath, he’d flipped her onto her back and was working himself back inside her. She was so wet he didn’t have much trouble at all, and his desperate thrusts felt so good despite being uneven and faltering at times.

“Doll, please come for me. Please. _Please_. I’m so fuckin’ close, and I need you…”

She shoved a hand down to where their bodies met and rubbed circles around her clit as he deepened his shallow thrusts. She could feel that pressure verging on discomfort because he was so deep and so strong. Darcy dug the nails of her left hand into the flesh of his right shoulder as her orgasm hit her hard and unexpected. She heard him cry out a moment later and bury his face into her neck as his firm strokes slowed to shallower thrusts. His body was tense, muscles taut, and his breathing, which had stopped for a moment, was heavy and labored against her neck and ear.

“Please tell me you came,” he whispered after a moment of silence broken only by their gasping breaths.

She laughed and ran her hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face just like he’d done with hers earlier. “Yeah, I did.”

“No thanks to me,” he said in her ear.

“Uh, very much thanks to you, buddy. You think I can make myself come that fast without you inside me?” she asked. He lifted his face to look at her and she held his hair back. “How are you, really? Are you okay, Bucky?”

Bucky looked her right in the eyes as he smiled, the expression crinkling the corners of his eyes in true happiness. “I’m amazing, doll.”

“Did it, uh, live up to your expectations?” she asked, biting her lower lip as just a little embarrassment crept into the edges of her mind.

“ _Better_ than I imagined, but I think that might have been because it was with you.”

If she’d been standing, then Darcy was convinced she might have fainted like one of those women in period dramas. As it was, she was hard pressed to slow the way her heartbeat kicked up a notch at his confession.

“I made your heart speed up,” he whispered in wonder against her cheeks before he kissed her lips tenderly.

“You make me feel… important,” she confessed.

His eyebrows drew together. “You _are_ important. I could never explain to you how important you are to me.”

She suppressed a gasp when he rolled off her, pulling out and leaving her wanting his body back against hers, wanting him back inside her. Bucky pulled her close, spooning her like they’d done the previous night as they fell asleep at the beach house. He placed fluttering kisses on the back of her neck and over her shoulder before settling in and sighing.

“I was thinking,” Darcy said after a few minutes of contented silence.

“What were you thinking, doll?” he murmured in her ear. The gentle rumble of his voice so close it made Darcy shiver in pleasure. That, in turn, made Bucky chuckle.

“You said I replaced daybreak.”

“Mmm, hmm.”

“Well, let’s replace the others, too. Yeah?”

He was silent for a few seconds in which she held her breath. Finally he said, “Yeah, I’d love that.”

She smiled to herself and wiggled her ass back against him. He stilled her with a hand on her hip.

“Darcy?” he said softly.

“Hmm?” she asked, feeling the past day without sleep start to weigh her down now that she’d stopped moving and felt comfortable in his arms.

“I’m glad you were there in the kitchen that first day. I wouldn’t change a thing, other than leaving you on the beach last night.”

“It’s okay. I… I think we both needed time to digest what happened.”

“I won’t ever leave you again. I’ll do anything for you,” he whispered into her ear.

She put her hand over his vibranium one that rested on her stomach. “I’ll never leave you either, Bucky.”

He pressed a kiss right behind her ear where her hairline started. “I wish you could hear my heartbeat right now, doll. It’s faster than yours.”

Darcy smiled and closed her eyes, focusing on the way his body felt pressed along the length her. It was true that she couldn't hear his heartbeat, but it was also true she didn't need to.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talis13 drew this lovely piece of art inspired by Bucky in this fic. You can [SEE IT HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12432639).
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read this fic and left me an encouraging comment. You all really are wonderful and supportive with the way you make me feel so welcome. I appreciate that more than I can express in these author's notes. I hope you enjoyed this story. And if you haven't read my others, I hope you do so and enjoy them as well.<
> 
> Thank you to my betas [ChocolateGate (cocosmama)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocosmama/pseuds/ChocolateGate) and [Bulmaveg_Otaku](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulmaveg_Otaku) for helping me make this fic better and talking me off the ledge when I wanted to scrap it. Thank you to [fasole-dulce](https://fasole-dulce.tumblr.com) and all those awesome chicks on Tumblr who offered to read this before I posted it since I was struggling with thinking it was worthwhile.
> 
> As I mentioned in the author's note in the first chapter, I'm taking a break from writing for a bit. I work in the financial services/advisory industry, which tends to get very busy in the fourth quarter of the year. Work has been stressful and will continue to be so until the year is over. This means I'm working longer-than-normal hours, and the energy I have to put toward writing is very low. Also, when I write I tend to use all my free time to do so. Since I started writing in the MCU, I've been neglecting shows/movies/books that I'd like to experience. So, I'm going to go into my little cave and focus on some self-care and do other things that give me enjoyment. I'm sure I'll be back with more stories to tell, but it won't be until next year. Hopefully, I will see you all then.
> 
> That being said, I have written several RPF NHL fics that were posted elsewhere. I may import them into AO3 over the next few weeks. I hope you'll give them a chance if you're bored and looking for something to read.
> 
> If you'd like to drop me a line or say hello, you can find me on Tumblr under anogete. I don't bite, and I'd love to get messages from all you awesome people.
> 
> Farewell for now!


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